


More Than a Mentor

by tranquilatlast



Series: MTAM Series [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Reader-Insert, Reunions, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-06 15:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 61,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17348189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranquilatlast/pseuds/tranquilatlast
Summary: You've been traveling the globe for decades, researching anomalies and mythological creatures no human has ever lived to record. This is your life's work, and it's brought you right to a small, strange little place in Oregon: Gravity Falls, a major origin of unnatural phenomena. As soon as you arrive, you know there will never be a boring moment as long as you're there.It's a new, sunny morning, and you can't wait to discover the unknown as well as meet new friends. You might even meet some old ones on the way.





	1. Old and New

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Operation: Matchmaking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278157) by [tranquilatlast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranquilatlast/pseuds/tranquilatlast). 



> alrighty, take two! 
> 
> welcome to my rewrite of _Operation: Matchmaking!_ new year, new reader.
> 
> if you didn't come from my old fic, there's no need to check it out, but please do feel free to laugh at my 2016 writing style. just know that More Than a Mentor is a completely standalone fic that i'm super excited to write for you guys!
> 
> i know you got enough of my notes in _O:M,_ so without further ado, the story. i hope you enjoy!

_I didn't think I'd find_ you  _here._

*

"Incredible!" you exclaimed in awe, dropping your pack to the ground in front of where you were kneeling to rummage through it. You found your tape measure in a side pocket of your backpack and extended the tape with an excited grin, holding it up to measure the fascinating creature in front of you. Its height was just above twelve inches, and you retracted the tape measure to scribble hurriedly in your notebook. You looked back up at the small being, the smile never leaving your face. "May I get your name again, little guy?"

"Shmebulock," the gnome garbled through a mouthful of candy. His little hands clutched the wrapper of the king sized chocolate bar you'd lured him in with. "Senior."

It was a beautiful sunny morning, and you couldn't be more eager to spend the rest of the summer in this little town. You'd spent the last few decades wandering the globe for your research of the unknown, myths becoming realities and incredible adventures taking up a significant portion of your time. It was always fun to move from place to place, not quite ready to settle down anywhere yet when there were so many sights to see. You made many new friends on your travels, but it was never too hard to part ways with a small promise of keeping in touch. Being around friends wasn't what you were interested in.

At least, not until you showed up here.

Gravity Falls was a hub of tourist activity, so you fit right in. Your studies have led you here, to this very town. There was a fixed point of strange occurrences and creatures seeming to originate from this area, and that alone was enough to make you curious. As with all places you've been to, you scoped out the town and the areas surrounding it in hopes of a small sample of what you could discover during the time you'd be there.

And a sizeable sample did you get. Only few hours in the woods at night, and you'd already come face-to-face with the supernatural. Floating eyeballs, giant bats, mysterious echoes of quiet bluegrass music in the distance. Not even a day since your arrival and you already had a solid several pages of the anomalies you've encountered throughout the night and early morning. This place was a goldmine of weird!

You had camped out in the woods that first evening of your arrival, mainly because you had nowhere else to stay so soon after showing up unnanounced. You really didn't mind, as wandering around a lot often left you without means of living space besides dinky motels. You woke up at dawn after a very pleasant dream and walked around the woods a bit more, meeting a gnome barely twenty minutes into your morning exploring. After a very confusing but exciting spelling lesson, as well as a promise to bring your gnome friend more candy sometime, you had everything packed up again and had wandered back into the town of Gravity Falls.

Not many people were out since it was far too early to wake on a summer weekend when you'd left the woods, and so the town was under a blanket of serene silence. It was nice, but you wanted to start getting to know people. In the meantime, you had decided to start familiarizing yourself with the areas you didn't get to see before nightfall. You had expected a place with this many unnatural occurrences to be lowkey and unfriendly, but everyone you saw trickling out of their homes in the more manageable part of the morning were the complete opposite.

Each person seemed to have their own strange quirks, besides one man in a button-up who didn't seem the least bit strange. Having this many welcoming people greeting you and each other got you in a pretty good mood, but walking around for those few hours without any sort of breakfast did have you hungry. Your morning snack had been fed to a gnome, after all. You had doubled back once you reached the end of a strip of closed stores, turning a few corners to find the cute diner you'd seen earlier.

Currently, a small bell above the door chimed as you entered, and there were a few people you already recognized who must have been on their way to eat when you met them on the sidewalk. A few patrons glanced up at the door at the quiet tinkle of the bell, but were otherwise too busy with their breakfast to pay you any mind. You understood, looking around the interior of the diner rather than try to greet those you'd met on the sidewalk. You were pretty eager to get some food yourself.

You bid a good morning towards the first employee you saw, a woman with a lazy eye, and she merrily introduced herself once confirming you were a traveler. This town seemed to be a tight-knit community in which everyone knew everyone, and it wasn’t hard to spot people from out of town. You knew you’d stick out like a sore thumb once the current round of tourists left and you remained, but hopefully you’d get to know the locals a bit more personally when they realized you planned to stay for a good amount of time. Camping was practically second nature to you, but in these woods, you felt like you should have a proper shelter. To get a place to stay on such short notice, you'd have to make quick friends.

"I know you'll enjoy your stay, mysterious stranger!" Lazy Susan exclaimed, grabbing a half-empty mug from the nearest table and pouring coffee into it. She grinned at you, not bothering to look down at the mug. You would’ve been impressed if coffee hadn’t spilled over the rim a few times, splattering onto the tiled floor. "There's plenty to do in Gravity Falls, and Greasy's Diner has the best grub in town! Try our pies as soon as you get the chance, okay?"

The coffee eventually overfilled the mug, sloshing onto the table to the great dismay of the customer it belonged to. It spread over the table, dripping slowly over the edge to add to the puddles on the floor. Some of the hot coffee spread towards the person in the booth, threatening to spill onto them. They didn't quite look surprised, and just glanced at Lazy Susan in exasperation. You felt kind of bad for them.

"I sure will, I promise. They all look amazing," you admitted honestly, looking away from the customer. Your eyes settled on the display case of pies as Lazy Susan hustled you over, insisting for you to take a seat wherever while she went to grab a menu. She had nudged you playfully a few times and you had to grip the strap buckle of your book bag as you followed her further into the diner, playing into her friendly chat along the way. Your leather bag was so old and worn, the strap came undone when it was jostled too roughly. Breakfast hour had just been ending, so there were plenty of available seats. You sure worked up an appetite with all the walking you did earlier. "Thanks a whole bunch, Susan, I'm just about starving."

"Being a wanderer will do that to ya. Maybe you oughta settle down here! We sure could use the extra business. Wink!" She lifted her lazy eyelid and moved it back down in a strange wink, then laughed to herself and turned to go behind the counter at the very same time a teenage girl you didn’t recognize bounced past you towards the exit. You chuckled at the friendly exchange, paying no mind to the enthusiastic girl, and took another step forward to find yourself a booth somewhere. Preferably near a window so you could look out at the town while eating.

Just then, a sturdy force collided with you, and you gasped as you took a startled step back. The strap of your book bag shifted just enough that it came totally undone, and the flap of the bag snapped open to let your journals and loose notes scatter on the floor pathetically. Luckily, nothing had slipped into the coffee on the floor that had yet to be cleaned. You sighed at that small relief, just glad nothing of yours was dirtied or ruined. That would have been a small pain.

The person you’d run into hastily apologized as you kneeled to start collecting your papers, trying to organize them as fast as possible so you wouldn’t have to stay squatted down for long. The diner wasn’t too wide, and you always hated being the person to block walkways. Luckily, no one else seemed to be out of their seat. In fact, the other customers either didn’t notice what had happened or were just very content to mind their own business. You didn't know whether that was thoughtful of them or not in this particular situation.

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry! I was just getting up to follow my niece and must have let my mind wander, I’m sorry," they said quickly, alarmed. Then they were dropping to the floor as well to gather what they could, much more frantic than you were. You shook your head, lips quirking in an amused smile at their fretting, and starting to stuff things back into your book bag. With all the years you’d spent traveling, you knew that accidents happen. Sometimes, things just weren’t anyone’s fault. Other times, they were everyone's fault. You'd left behind the habit of blame a long time ago.

"No, no, it's alright. I should've paid more attention to where I was going, too. There's no harm done.” You quickly fixed the strap of the bag, tugging the buckle to make sure it didn't come undone again and then grabbing everything else closest to you. At one point, the two of you almost touched hands before they quickly yanked back to let you grab it. It seemed to be a flustered reaction rather than a disgusted one, so you paid it no mind. You and the stranger stood up and they offered a neat stack of your things with both hands once the both of you decided you’d grabbed everything. "Thank you for helping me pick all this up. I really appreciate it."

"Of course. I was lost in my own head just now, it’s the very least I could do." You took the stack with one hand, ready to assure them they weren't at fault again, when you noticed something that made you falter. You had noticed their hands. This person had six fingers on each one, both wrapped around your stack of books. That sparked something familiar in you, and you had some sense of nostalgia.

A beat of silence passed.

They must have realized what you were looking at, because then their hands made a hasty retreat and they folded their arms behind their back in another familiar fashion. Huh.

"W-Well, uh, sorry again. My niece is waiting, if-if you could please excuse me." Their voice was deep, you noticed, and even more nervous than before. They sounded extremely embarrassed, and were already moving to rush away from you. You looked down at the small stack of your supplies dumbly, taking a moment to process. What are the odds this was a stranger? You definitely know someone with six fingers. And that habit of hiding them. And that deep voice.

That voice.

The stranger hastily brushed past you and you whipped around to look at them, surprised. Their back was towards you, hands now folded in front of them to keep their fingers hidden from your gaze. The teenage girl that had passed you earlier was in the open doorway of the diner, staring at you quizzically, like she was just about to leave before hearing the commotion. This must have been the stranger's company to breakfast. A child of theirs, maybe?

Your eyes flickered to the back of the person's head as they walked away from you, and the girl looked up at them curiously. You stared intently at the person, taking in their build and their brisk way of walking. The high arch of their shoulders as they hunched in on themself, like they meant to quietly slip out of your notice. Almost on instinct, you took a startled step forward.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" you blurted out, your free hand floating in front of you as if to reach out to this person. You already knew the answer to your question, you were positive, but it did well to get their attention. They shook their head, glancing over their shoulder at you for just a moment before doing a double-take. He paused. He turned, his flustered hunch receding slowly so he was standing tall. You looked at his face, watching it slowly light up with recognition as he looked at you. "Stanford?"

*

“Mr. Pines?” you asked, holding a textbook to your chest as you leaned down to address the student in his seat. The man in question looked up from the small stacks of books and notebooks around him, that of which were absolutely cluttering the large table he sat at. You recognized his face from the identification the counselor had showed you and introduced yourself with a smile. You held out a hand, making sure to keep your voice at a reasonable level even though you two were the only people in the room. Even the Backupsmore University librarian was a slacker, it seemed. “I’m the student you were asked to tutor. It’s very lovely to meet you.”

He glanced at your face to your outstretched hand, almost weary. When he hesitated to respond, you started to draw your hand back. He reached up before you could and took it into his own, giving you a firm handshake. You were taken aback by how his hand enveloped yours easily, feeling bigger than you usually noticed hands to be. Before you could think about it too much, the man withdrew from the contact and folded his hands together, resting them on the table in front of him.

“Stanford will do. And, er, likewise.” His voice was deep and pleasant to the ear, and you found you didn't mind listening to it at all, even with the nervous undertone. This was a relief. You'd have to listen to this voice for as long as Stanford Pines was your tutor. Another brief silence passed and he cleared his throat awkwardly, standing up to move some of the stacks of books aside to clear as much space on the table as possible for you. There was a chair opposite his and he gestured to it quickly, seeming to grow just a bit more nervous. The hand he wasn’t gesturing with came up to rub the back of his neck. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you, Stanford,” you said honestly, pulling the chair out and slinging the strap of your leather book bag over the back before sitting down. His name rolled off your tongue smoothly, as if you’d said it a million times over before coming here to meet up with him. That probably wasn’t too off, as you had practiced introducing yourself alone in your dorm room the day prior. It wasn’t often you had to meet new people, and you couldn’t bring yourself to socialize when you were having this much trouble with your studies. Rather, what you wanted to study.

“Likewise.” Stanford seemed to realize he’d already said that just earlier, stumbling over his words a bit. You refrained from raising a brow at him in your slight amusement. So far, this guy was far worse at socializing than you were, which was another small comfort. This was awkward for both of you. “Ah, I mean—Yes, yes, as do I. Look forward to working with you, that is. I admit I-I was reluctant to accept a tutoring position, especially so suddenly. After reading a few of your essays, however, I believe we should be able to accomplish your goal. The counselor told me you were, ah… lost, as you put it?”

You had scheduled a meeting with one of Backupsmore University’s head counselors last week to explain you had no idea what you wanted to do after graduating. You’d hoped to find a major you were interested in once you got accepted by a university, but years later, you still didn’t know what to do. The counselor truly wanted to help you, and pointed you out to Stanford Pines, a man around your age who was already breezing through the school curriculum and probably close to earning his doctorate already despite being years away from such an achievement.

The counselor had met with him a few days after you, and he was definitely not looking to be a tutor. Stanford was very focused on his studies and thought being a mentor would be more of a setback. He didn’t work much with people, either, and was wary of having to associate with someone who needed a tutor in such a low-ranked college. It took some convincing to have him sign up for one-on-one sessions modeled the way he wanted. He only accepted the program after considering the fact that doing this would build his resume and other applications.

“That’s probably the most accurate way to put it, yes,” you agreed, a bit bashful. You calmly paraphrased your situation, but looking such an attentive man in the eye and seeing all the independent research he was doing was intimidating to you. It was hard to get your goals in order, and even harder to bring yourself to ask for help from someone your age who was probably going to graduate with an early master’s degree before you even managed to land a bachelor’s. It was incredibly embarrassing, even though Stanford didn't strike you as the type to tease about your worries.

“Alright,” he hummed once you were finished explaining your situation. He briefly glanced around at everything on the table, then leaned over to one stack of a few big books and shuffled through them patiently. You watched as he grabbed one and held it up with one hand, letting you read the title of the textbook. At the advanced subject, you leaned back a little in shock. Stanford's focused expression was completely unchanged, save for a miniscule furrow in his brow. “We’ll start with quantum physics.”

You’ve known him for less than ten minutes, and he wanted to start your tutoring sessions with quantum physics? You gaped at the man, who stared at you unwaveringly in return. You didn’t even consider going into a field of that science, surely he would know that. You knew the counselor had shown him your classes. There was no way he was serious about teaching this to you. Unless…

Was he trying to figure out if you were serious about him teaching you?

The idea was a bit patronizing at first, but the more you thought about it, the more you understood. You were complete strangers. This was Backupsmore University. He didn’t know you at all. For all he knew, you could be some C- highschool graduate who wasn’t willing to put in the effort to get yourself a decent career. He wanted to make sure you were serious about getting tutored, that you wouldn’t just waste his time and flake out after a week of half-assed effort under lessons he didn't even want to teach in the first place. This was just a huge chunk out of his schedule to him. You were just extra work he had to do on top of everything else he had going on. And judging by the clutter of the table you sat at, he had a _lot_ going on.

Your mouth had opened slightly in surprise, but just a moment later, you’d readily composed yourself. You pursed your lips and swung your book bag onto your lap to quickly find an empty notebook and a pen you hadn't used much before, bringing them in front of you. Stanford raised his brows in your peripheral, and you set your supplies on the desk before looking back up at him with a determined expression. You clicked your pen so the writing tip was out, the mild sound being extremely prominent in the silence.

“We'll start with quantum physics,” you echoed firmly, nodding. The man stared a bit longer, as if he was expecting you to take it back. You kept eye contact until something in his expression grew less tense, and he nodded as well. Your new tutor opened the textbook and turned it around towards you, sliding it smoothly in your direction. Stanford flattened out the glossy pages with both hands as he recited the title of the first section, and you opened your notebook and dutifully brought your pen to paper.

*

Stanford Pines was a deer in headlights, frozen to his feet as he took a moment to study you. Another moment passed, in which you couldn't believe who you were seeing. Those wide eyes, that unruly hair, those crooked glasses, those hands that now hung at his sides. He stammered out your name after a few seconds, unsure. The smooth familiarity of it did wonders to oppose the awkward tension.

You laughed in disbelief and practically lunged forward to bring your arms around your old mentor and friend in a hug. Ford’s body stiffened briefly before his shoulders untensed and his arms came around you to return the embrace. He held you close as he laughed softly, somehow sounding more shocked than you did.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed in happy confusion, feeling like a college undergrad all over again. He said your name again, excited and full of mirth. You missed people saying your name like Ford did, like they genuinely knew you and actually appreciated your company.

“I’m here!” Ford said, his tone equally as confused and elated as yours was. He broke the hug to put his hands on your shoulders and just looked into your eyes with an incredibly charming expression, his face alight with a brilliant smile. You returned it with a remarkably easy familiarity, your own hands coming up to hold his forearms as if to make sure he was really in front of you.

You had just arrived in Gravity Falls, but you already knew you wouldn't regret coming here.


	2. A New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Pines part ways for now and you make a new friend in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen........... it has been five months and I have no excuse besides life. I meant to post this chapter a few days ago and then I had this idea and now stuff has happened!
> 
> I'll definitely try to get better at posting! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_"We'll see each other again soon."_

*

“Gosh, how long has it been? Thirty, forty years?”

“Too long. _Far_ too long.”

“We're so old,” you chuckled, slicing a big hunk of your pancakes with a butterknife. Stanford sighed, an unreadable smile on his face as you shoved the huge forkful into your mouth without much grace. Susan was right; wandering around so much did make you super hungry. You picked up the syrup pitcher again and dribbled a bit more over your pancakes, mostly to watch the amber liquid slowly trickle down as you chewed.

“I need to hang out with my friends more. The ones my age,” Mabel hummed jokingly, lighting up when you laughed through your food. The teenager was incredibly energetic and friendly, and didn't hesitate to introduce herself as Stanford's great-niece once your hug with him had come to end. It was nice to have such an enthusiastic person around you and you could already tell she'd do wonders to your attitude throughout your trip. In such a small town, you had no doubts you'd be seeing these two often.

Ford had graciously offered to leave you alone to your breakfast, but Mabel convinced him it was alright to stay and talk to you even though they probably had somewhere to go. The teen was snacking on a grilled cheese and mostly listening in on your conversation with wide, curious eyes. You felt like she was planning to recite every detail to others later, which you supposed saved you the trouble of repeating yourself to… whoever she wanted to tell.

It had been a while since you've seen Stanford, but it seemed like he didn't change much. He was still a bit wary of socializing and his posture was perfect, but guarded, like he'd either flee or shrink in on himself if he saw something he didn't want to stick around for. Just earlier, he’d tried to flee after you’d noticed his unusual amount of fingers. You let your mind drift a little to a time you’d seen him do that before. You snapped out of your thoughts when he called your name and you looked up from your plate to meet his warm, familiar gaze.

“What have you been up to?” Stanford asked curiously, eyes shining with interest as he leaned forward. You almost laughed again at the resemblance between him and his niece, both of them staring at you with the same innocently curious expression.

“What do you think, nerd?” You teased, slicing another huge bite from the stack on your plate. “I’ve been following through on my anomalous phenomena studies. I've been all over, Stanford, it's a dream come true! New Zealand, India, Brazil, Iceland. There's so much to see and even more to discover on my own. I have all my work with me, if you'd like to take a look?”

The man lit up and you laughed again as you took your next bite. He looked like he really did want to indulge, but glanced at Mabel and shook his head. He had his hands folded in the table in front of him and started wringing them together in thought.

“I would love to, but we'll have to take a rain check if you’ve done as much research as you say. Mabel insisted on breakfast here and Stanley is the only other person who could accompany her. He's spending some time at the Mystery Shack, though, so that left me in charge,” he explained, a small smile on his lips like he enjoyed the responsibility. You couldn't help but give a small smile in return, but tilted your head slightly.

“Stanley?” The question made him pause for a second, and the smile fell into something a bit more melancholy, then perked into excitement pretty quickly. You leaned forward in interest and Mabel grinned, answering for her uncle with such great enthusiasm that you felt bad for not including her in the conversation sooner.

A solid half hour passed as you caught up with one of your old friends and his energetic niece, hearing all about Stanford's twin, the family tourist trap they used to run called The Mystery Shack, and the current escapades of the old twins on crashing waves and salty waters. By then, your coffee had been filled to overflowing and the plates on the table had been cleared away. You'd usually feel bad about hanging around in a restaurant for so long after paying the bill, but there were barely any customers as it were. No one else seemed to mind, so your nerves were calmed very quickly before you glanced at the watch on your wrist and then looked out the window.

"The sun's risen a bit higher," you observed during a slight lull in conversation. Your companions turned to look out the small pane of glass as well, but only Ford gave you a nod of understanding. You reached out without looking to trace a finger across the edge of the table, itching to get back to work.

"Back to your studies, I take it?" he asked, watching you as you started to put some notebooks back into your bag. You'd been showing him and Mabel some of your scribbles and sketches, and they'd given you a bunch of positive feedback, enough that you were more eager to go out and explore than ever.

"So it seems." You adjusted your bag's faulty strap and stood with a smile, the pair of Pines following suit. The three of you bid goodbye to Lazy Susan and you tried not to feel too bad about making her wave at you as she poured another overflowing mug of coffee. Once you were all outside, you looked to the woods nearby with an excited grin. "Well," you turned back to the Pines, "it was a pleasure seeing you again, Stanford. It was very nice to meet you, Mabel."

"Likewise," your friend nodded. His niece seemed a bit more reluctant to see you go, but she perked up quickly in the way one does when they get an "Aha!" moment. A small thought of Stanford having the same moments in college fluttered in the back of your head.

"We should meet up again!" she squealed, and in a swift motion, she had shoved her phone into your hands. It was already open to a new contact, and you raised a brow at her forwardness. You typed your name in and glanced at Stanford, returning his sheepish smile with your own. "Give me your number so we can make plans later, okay? You and grunkle Ford can catch up sometime!"

"If you aren't too busy," Stanford cut in, his hands folded behind his back. He had his chest puffed out at you in confidence, but there was a tinge of pink to his ears. You decided to pretend you didn't notice and dismissed his words with a friendly wave.

"You're welcome to join us at any time me and Stanford ever decide to meet up, Mabel," you said honestly, plugging in the rest of your information quickly. The teen accepted her phone when you handed it back to her and beamed up at you, as bright as can be. You could already tell this girl was going to be fun to be around if you were to see her and Stanford again.

"I know," she replied happily, making you chuckle. Then you were off, sharing the last "see you later!" with the Pines and wandering away from the diner to prepare for your work. You had a few errands to tend to before really getting into your explorations, and you were glad that Lazy Susan's coffee was strong enough to chew.

*

You navigated over grassy hills and rocky creeks, finding old and new creatures as you went. You felt young again. With a few plastic gold coins in your pocket and a whole lot of excited scribbles in your most current journal, you had been happy to decide your exhibitions for the day were thoroughly productive. Before coming into the forest, you had had the pleasure of skimming through the town's library and catching up on the folklore of Gravity Falls. It was your job to prove and disprove these stories, after all, so you were happy to spend a few hours gathering intel in the quiet building.

After another few hours of being out and about, you'd found a very small clearing around ten feet in diameter a good ways away from the town according to the map you were marking up as you went. It was a large piece of paper the size of a movie poster, 24 by 36 inches, but the town of Gravity Falls took up around an eighth of the paper and the woods filled most of the remaining space. With the rate you were going at, you’d have to attach extra pieces of paper sooner than you thought. You made a mental note to do it when you settled down for the evening, as the sun was already starting to get low in the sky.

Just as you were finished sketching out the clearing, you felt a slight displacement of air, like someone had just passed you quickly. You looked up from the map and looked around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You stayed silent for a moment, not daring to breathe. Then you heard a rustle of leaves at your five o'clock and whipped around, barely catching a glimmer of movement in your peripheral. You didn't dare to look away as you carefully folded up your map, stuffing the square and pencil into the breast pocket of your hiker's vest.

For another few seconds, nothing moved. You wondered if it was just your imagination, but quickly dismissed the thought; you'd seen too many paranormal creatures to ignore anything now. Maybe you had guessed wrong as to where you heard whatever-it-was move? You peeled your eyes away from the tree to skim over the surrounding areas when—there!

Your eyes snapped to a spindly shadow rushing away from the tree you had been looking at, and your dominant hand flew to the waist of your pants as you locked your gaze onto its new position. Your fingertips grazed the smooth metal of your concentrated light blaster, ready to grab it and pull it out at a moment's notice. You realized the sound you heard wasn't leaves rustling at all. It had been coming from what you couldn't see, a quiet "tch-tch-tch-tch" not unlike the sound of a maraca (funnily enough).

"Who's there?" you asked, making your voice as authoritative and clear as possible. "Show yourself!" When there was no movement, you started approaching the thin tree. Logically, you thought, no human would be able to fit behind such a thin trunk. It was half a foot wide. You were dealing with a creature you hadn't directly encountered before, and the thought of it made you grin before remembering yourself and clearing your throat to settle your smile back into a frown.

"I know you're not a human being," you started, something in the back of your mind wondering if this creature could understand you. "You're too fast, and too good at hiding. You can't be a bird, or a fairy, or any creature I've seen that plays music when they approach." Your eyes narrowed as you went through individual creatures in your head, only a few catching your attention for more than a few seconds. A teasing tree nymph, maybe? You hadn't heard any accompanying human-like noises, so you ruled that out. Since the shadow you'd seen had been unnaturally quick, you didn't linger on the thought of a human-sized stick bug, either, though those seemed to be popular in another part of the forest you had yet to venture into. One other creature stood out to you, though.

"The Hide-Behind," you said aloud, your voice holding more awe than you meant for it to. The lumberjack legend, the creature that was always watching watching, but nowhere to be seen. "You're the creature the townsfolk have never laid their eyes on." That sound rang out again, a staccato of scratchy hisses, but there was no movement. Something about the timing of that sound piqued your interest. "Are you… Do you understand what I'm saying?" No sound. "That's a no then. But you know I'm talking to you?"

You hesitated for a second, but stood up straight, lowering your hand from your blaster. You couldn't recall any stories of the Hide-Behind attacking anyone, so you had no reason to believe it were hostile. Then again, you'd made that mistake considering a friendly-looking elf in the streets of Germany, so you quickly turned your blaster to its temporary paralysis setting, just in case, before holding both palms out in front of you placatingly.

"Hide-Behind," you called, coming closer to the tree now. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Can you please come out so I can—ack!" The series of rattling noises came from the tree just a few feet in front of you and the shadow flew past you to another tree further away. Your eyes were wide in surprise, but you collected yourself. The shadow wasn't a shadow, but the Hide-Behind itself! You considered your options for a moment before deciding to sit down on the grass where you were, crisscrossing your legs.

"Okay, you're scared," you said calmly, as if you were talking to a shy child. If the creature couldn't understand what you were saying, you'd have to rely on the sound of your voice. "I understand. But I would really like to see you, so I'll be staying here until you want to come out, okay?" Silence. You kept your eye on the tree it had moved to before looking away, reaching into your bag to pull out some snacks. You nibbled at a protein bar and swung your traveling pack off your shoulders to rest it beside you. You had a feeling you'd be waiting there for a while.

*

You were right. Sunset came and went, and your backside was starting to ache from how long you'd been sitting down. It had been just under an hour, but you were used to wandering and running through the forest rather than sitting for this long. In order to make yourself more comfortable, you'd scooted backwards until your back hit the bark of the tree and leaned on it. When the first twenty minutes had passed after you sat, you'd decided to do some work. It would do no good just waiting without having anything to do, and maybe Herb (you'd decided to call them Herbert, the only name you could think of off the top of your head with the letters H and B in that order. Herb for short, of course) would feel more comfortable around you if you weren't just staring them down.

And they did! As you ate a protein bar and skimmed over notes you'd written in haste earlier, you noticed the occasional rattling sound and Herb moving to different trees around the clearing. Over time, they had started to get slower as well, like they didn't bother using so much of their energy now that you knew they were there. At one point, you had looked up to see a head quickly duck behind the trunk of a tree, as if Herb had been observing you. You decided to let them stare without looking up at them so they could take in the sight of you before confrontation.

You were in the middle of rewriting a note about an interesting hawk you had seen earlier today, an untouched granola bar of fruit and nuts in your non-dominant hand, when you heard the rattling come from extremely close. You jumped slightly, looking up to see Herb had gotten much closer to you without you realizing. So close, in fact, you were face-to-face with yellow glowing eyes and a head with the resemblance of dark tree bark. You felt the urge to jump away, but forced your reflex down in order to avoid scaring the being away. For a second, you both stared at each other curiously, then Herb made another rattling sound and spun to dart behind the tree right behind it. You hair had moved slightly from the displacement of air, and you set your things down to brush the few strands back to where they were.

"Hey there," you said very softly, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. You didn't dare move. "Do you want to meet me as much as I want to meet you?" No response, but you saw an eerily large hand of the same bark material come from behind the trunk, grabbing it as Herb poked their head out to look at you. You stared back, your lips pulled up in a kind smile as you introduced yourself by name. Herb's head moved a bit further into your line of sight. "Do you have a name? I think I'll call you Herb for now, if you don't mind." Ever so slowly, you closed your notebook and reached your hand out. Herb didn't move or look away from your face.

"It's nice to meet you, Herb," you said genuinely, keeping still once your arm was outstretched. Herb stared at your smiling face for another few seconds before stepping out from behind the tree, and you couldn't help but gasp. You hadn't had the chance to notice their sheer height when they were right in front of you, but they had grown to eight feet tall once they were out from behind the tree. Their shoulders were broad, carrying two long branches you realized were their arms. Their hands were almost twice the size of your head and hung at their knees. Their torso had tapered down into small hips, not unlike the pelvic bone of a human male, and their legs were as thin as their arms. Even down to their feet, Herb's body was made of rough tree bark, dark, ashy brown in color. They were almost intimidating.

Almost. It was hard to be intimidated by a creature, even at eight feet tall, when they were poking and prodding at your hand curiously. Herb made their rattling noise at you when your fingers twitched as they poked at your palm with their rough fingers, and you laughed to yourself in return. They were bent at the waist to study your hand, their glowing, golden eyes unblinking and unwavering. Their head snapped up to look at you when you laughed, tilted in curiosity.

"It's called a handshake, buddy," you say, nodding to your hand so they'd look back at it. Herb stared as you slowly moved, the creature jumping in surprise when you went to hold their own hand. They looked ready to rush away, but they paused when you did. You waited a few seconds. "You do it when you meet a new friend," you continued calmly, slowly moving their hand up and down in yours with a barely-there grip. "Like this. See?"

Herb rattled in response and you were about to let go of them when, to your utter amazement, they started shaking your hand as well! They did it with the same caution and gentle grip as you, as if they were as afraid of hurting you as you were of hurting them. Your heart melted at their gentle touch and you beamed in delight, nodding eagerly.

"Yes, like that! Good job, Herb!" At your encouragement, Herb shook your hand for another few seconds before you let go and they did the same. They didn't let their hand fall like you did, though. Instead, Herb poked and gently grabbed at your arm, releasing and grabbing again, as if studying the feeling of your squishy human self beneath their fingers. That little interaction seemed to have convinced them you were friendly, or fragile enough that you weren't a threat, at the very least.

You tried not to look alarmed at them curiously examining you, and they grew enough confidence to take your arm in both large hands and lift it to their face to look at your skin up close. They gently let it bend and poked at your elbow, then held your forearm with one hand to move your arm as the other felt the your moving rotator cuff. Herb kept going, laying their rough palm against the whole side of your head as you laughed. They perked up at that, recognizing the sound, and you only leaned away when they tried to poke at your mouth and eyes. Luckily, Herb knew what boundaries were and didn't bother trying to poke at your face again besides your soft cheeks. After a few minutes of this, you reached out your other hand and they paused their prodding.

"May I?" you asked, still smiling at them. Herb looked at your face, then at the arm in their hands. Carefully, they let go and sat still. Just as you thought they might run away, they reached an arm out to you in invitation. Ecstatic, you gently took their arm into your grip and started to study them. You had to stand to properly lift and move their arm. "Incredible! You have a very human body structure!" They rattled in response. "Yes, I'm a human. Look, our arms bend the same way and everything." You showed them this by bending one arm the same way you carefully bent theirs, and Herb looked at both of your arms in interest. They rattled, looking at you, and you nodded happily as if you could understand them.

"We have similar hands, too." You held their wrist with a soft grip and brought their hand up next to yours, wiggling your fingers. "You have four fingers, though, and I have five, see?" Herb took a moment to watch, then wiggled their fingers like you were doing. For the next half hour, you showed Herb your similarities and differences. They liked to copy you, and you used that to your learning advantage by showing them how you'd hide behind a tree. You weren't very good at it, but they followed suit. This time, they let you see how their body bent, how their legs and arms came up to match the shape of whatever object they were hiding behind.

You started taking notes somewhere during the process, flicking an electric lantern on when you realized it was almost too dark to see. Herb was nervous by the thing at first, but soon grew interested in the glowing light. You were able to get them to stand up straight and stay still as you climbed one of the thicker trees in the clearing to measure their height. Herb was an outstanding eight feet and seven inches, and you let them measure your height as well. It was a habit of yours to explain what you were doing and saying your findings out loud. Herb had taken to rattling after you spoke for a particularly long time, and you always answered them in a tone similar to when you'd answer a question or reply to a comment depending on whether they tilted their head or not.

You got hungry during all this, and picked up your fruit and nut granola bar from the grass at the base of your bag as you plopped onto the grass ungracefully. Herb stared down at you for a second before following suit, making an audible thud as they sat in front of you. You made a mental note to try to weigh them at some point in the future. You unwrapped it and took a bite as you examined Herb's bark-like skin and wrote notes to describe it along with a small sketch at the corner of your paper. A thought occurred to you while you were drawing and you looked up at them, swallowing your bite.

"Hey, Herb, what do you eat? How do you sustain yourself?" you wondered. They didn't have any leaves as far as you could see, so no photosynthesis; nor did they have any visible roots, so they didn't absorb water. You jot down that their appearance had probably evolved to look similar to a tree for camouflage purposes, then look up again. The both of you were sitting down across from each other, you leaning against a tree again and Herb sitting with their legs crisscrossed like yours, hunching over to look at the movements of your hand as you wrote. "Do you have a mouth?" They looked at you, rattling in query.

"You know, your mouth." You set your pencil down again to point at your mouth as you opened it, making exaggerated opening and closing motions with your jaw. You were sure you looked silly, but you knew Herb wouldn't mind. You closed your mouth and gestured to them. A moment passed as they stared at you, and you waited patiently. For as quick as Herb moved and adjusted to their next hiding spot, they were slow to process anything that wasn't hiding. They were like a meek animal of sorts, or a shy little kid.

Another beat of stillness passed before what you could only assume was Herb's jaw twitched. You perked up as the bark of their face lightly scratched together, their jaw dropping slowly, further and further to reveal what you assumed was their mouth. From it came the same golden glow as their eyes, and you leaned forward in interest. From what you could see of your own nose, the glow was bright enough to cast some light on your face. The bark around Herb's mouth resembled teeth, but there was no tongue or uvula. The inside of their mouth matched the rest of them, but you couldn't find a source of the light.

"Man, that's cool," you stated, impressed. When you leaned back again, Herb's mouth stayed open. "What do you eat with that? I don't suppose you could actually use your bark as teeth." They rattled at you, and the sound came a bit clearer with their mouth open. "I know you eat because all living things need to eat. Like I do! Look." You bit off another small piece of your granola bar, chewing and swallowing it. You held it up to Herb's mouth. "Fruits and nuts maybe? Like from trees? You're certainly tall enough to reach them." Without closing their mouth, Herb leaned away from the unfamiliar treat and you took it back.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Uh, hold on." You reached over to your bag to find a small pouch of trail mix and opened it, emptying some into your palm. You held it there so Herb would copy you, then poured some of the mix into his hand as well. You tilted your head back and ate it, chewing for a few seconds before Herb tilted his head back as well. Only, he didn't close his mouth to chew. Instead, he tilted his head forward to let the food fall out before looking at you again. "No nuts or fruit, huh? Not even the M&Ms?" Herb rattled loudly, voicing his dissent, and you hummed in thought.

When you poured some water into your mouth, then Herb's, they just tilted their head forward and let it pour out of their mouth. You picked the M&Ms out of the trail mix for them to eat, which you didn't expect to work, and managed to catch them all when they tipped the candy out of their mouth. Absentmindedly, you ate the colorful pieces as you made notes. When you showed Herb how to gnaw at the granola bar, they were very gentle with it and barely dented the thing. They didn't chew then, nor did they drink. You made note of that, you scribbling taking up most of a page, and then looked at your watch.

"Oh, shoot! It's gotten late. I need to go," you said, starting to pack your things. Herb rattled at you, their mouth closing as slow as it had opened. They tilted their head at you when you had all your stuff packed up. "Sorry, bud, I should really be in town tonight. I don't have actual food with me after I ate the last of my rations yesterday," you apologized, swinging your pack over your shoulder as you stood up. You could meet Herb's eye when he was still sitting down, but he rose to his feet a second after you did, his gangly hands swinging slightly at his knees as you tilted your head far back to look at their face.

"I'll probably be back tomorrow, or the day after," you promised. "Though I don't know where to find you, so maybe even later than that. But when you find me, we can hang out again! Maybe you can help me figure out how you eat. Does that sound good to you, Herb?" They rattled, and you grinned. "Me, too, bud."

It was kind of disappointing to only have spent two hours with such a fascinating creature and an even more fascinating friend, but you wanted to start making your way back before the local restaurants closed. You raised a hand and took a step back. Herb didn't follow, as if they knew you were about to leave. You waved your raised hand side to side, your smile softening.

"Goodbye for now, Herb! Until next time, okay?" Herb raised their own hand, mirroring you, and waved slowly. Their whole body swayed to lean back for a second as they let out an unnatural howl, surprising you a little. You would have been unnerved if they didn't just look at you again to continue waving and rattling without hostility. You kept your hand up as well, waving while taking more steps back, and Herb rattled once more before lowering their hand and slinking into the trees behind them to exit the clearing.

You turned as well, still smiling happily to yourself as you took your map and pencil out. You labeled the clearing with a number two and circled it, turning your paper over to make a short footnote about your newfound friend. Once that was done, you tucked the pencil away and started your journey back to town.

**2\. Clearing, NW of GF. Meeting place of one of my first new friends in Gravity Falls. Herb's bark is worse than his bite—he has no bite at all.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think about me making Reader a Disney princess for weird creatures? yes, no??? I, personally, am into it and have future plans for her future forest endeavors!
> 
> thank you all so much for continuing to comment! your kind words and encouragement really get me panicking about writing which I promise you is a really good thing otherwise I wouldn't be writing at all! see you soon!


	3. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet two new faces and two old ones. The fifth is Mabel, who has a face full of caramel that's been who knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm getting a little tinny itty bitty bit better at uploading woohoo! this chapter's a little slow so i'm promising hella fluff in the next few ones to make up for it. for now, enjoy the fluff at the end! happy reading!!!
> 
> and hey, if you're curious about being a beta tester for this fic, make sure to read the end notes!

_You greeted me with welcome arms, and I couldn't be more grateful._

*

There weren't many restaurants in Gravity Falls, but you managed to nab yourself a cheap dinner somewhere before finding a room at a motel for the night. Your legs and arms were a bit sore from the journey you've had, but you took the time to search for bedbugs and carefully lay your sleeping bag over the sheets just as an added precaution.

The old TV worked as background noise and you pored over your notes for an hour as you ate. You had labeled the clearing you met Herb in and wrote about your experience with them before starting to tape more blank paper to your map in order to expand it. Somewhere between nine and ten in the evening, though, your phone buzzed. You had to search through your bag for a minute before finding it and opening up the new text.

> **[Unknown: hey hey! mabel here!]**

The message was followed by a string of emojis, some of which had been translated into empty rectangles on your older phone. You had to laugh at such a cute, casual text from an exuberant teenager after the night you just had, but it was a nice breath of fresh air. You changed the contact name and started typing a message back as Mabel kept typing.

> **[Mabel Pines: just wanted to make sure u had my number lol]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: grunkle ford wanted to ask if u were free tmrw so I passed ur digits over to him I hope that's ok]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: don't tell him I told u tho he wanted to ask u himself when he gets over his nerves]**

You smiled at that, unable to ignore the warmth in your chest at the thought. Stanford, his eyes probably darting from a tree to a cloud to a pebble on the ground in order to avoid eye contact as he talks to his niece about wanting to see you again. For a second, you drifted into thought about being able to catch up without trying to keep a third person included in conversation. You could tell Mabel was great company to have, but you were eager to talk to Stanford alone to share that long-forgotten feeling of camaraderie.

> **[You: Hi, Mabel! Of course it's okay! I haven't gotten any other texts yet but I'm really looking forward to his :)]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: oh I know ;^)]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: great! I'll tell him u said that]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: I won't keep u up late but where are u staying? u should get grnkle ford out of the house! he's turning into a hermit crab lol. only figuratively this time tho]**
> 
> **[Mabel Pines: I can tell a really pretty lady like urself has experience bringing him out of his shell and he's suuuuper into it fyi ahahaha wink!]**

You raised a brow at the screen. Was this kid hitting on you? For her great uncle? You took a moment to consider as you quickly finished tidying the mess of notebooks and loose paper around you. Your bookbag was laying on one of the bedside tables next to you and you'd turned off the ceiling light between Mabel's texts. The only sources of light in your room were the television, playing some goofy ad for some goofier series, and your phone's texting app. You had some back and forth with the teen for a few minutes before telling Mabel the name of the motel you were staying in.

> **[Mabel Pines: WHAT]**
> 
> **[You: What?]**

When Mabel hadn't even read your text in the minutes following, you decided to shower and change into comfortable clothing for the night. Twenty minutes later, when there was still no reply from the teenage girl, you figured she fell asleep. Without mulling over it too much, you shimmied into your sleeping bag and dozed off with the television still on.

*

The next morning, you were standing in front of a massive building. It looked old, but well taken care of. The manor was grand enough that you kept rechecking the address Mabel had sent you over text. You'd had to wave down a cab and asked the driver if he knew where he was going a few times before he grumpily dropped you off at the front gate to the property, a long ways up a large hill overlooking the town. Stanford was never one to dress up when you last saw him thirty years ago and Mabel was in a sweater when you last saw her, but you couldn’t help but feel underdressed in your hiking gear.

You scratched the back of your head, your mouth in a crooked frown, before pulling your phone out of your pocket and starting a call. Maybe you were at the wrong house after all—if you could even call this place a house. Mabel answered the call on the first ring and you didn't even get to say hello before her high-pitched voice squealed your name out of your phone's speaker.

"Good morning! Come in!" The call ended with a click and you stared down at it for a second before a loud sound drew your attention. The gates in front of you opened slowly, like something out of a movie. You guessed you were at the right place, then. The gates stayed open behind you when you pocketed your phone and started to walk down the cobblestone path. You glanced into the crystal clear waters of a large fountain as you walked around it, then looked up to see the double doors of the mansion open.

Mabel called your name again, all five-foot, three inches of her bounding towards you at the speed of light. Without slowing, she rushed at you before greeting you with a hug that almost knocked you off your feet. Luckily, you stayed upright and managed to hug her back before she took your hand and started leading you to the entrance of the mansion.

"I'm so glad you're here! I talked with grunkle Stan for so long last night telling them about you, even when he fell asleep! This is the Northwest Mansion, but grunkle McGucket bought it with all his science money after they had to sell it and he was really happy to have you come over this morning! I haven't told grunkle Ford yet, though, so it'll be a like a surprise!"

She kept glancing back at your face every few seconds as if to make sure you knew she was talking, that thousand-watt smile still shining up at you. You were so caught up in trying to match her pace and listen at the same time, you were already halfway inside the house when you registered what she said. Your interest was piqued at the names she mentioned, but one especially stood out to you.

"’Grunkle McGucket’?" you questioned, barely managing to stop Mabel for the briefest of moments to pull the doors shut behind the two of you. Mabel all but dragged you into a room to the side, where morning cartoons were playing on a shiny TV. The impressive furniture sure matched the grandeur of the mansion. You looked down at Mabel’s casual sweater, a different one from the sweater she’d been wearing yesterday, and tried not to feel like you should have worn nice jeans or something.

"Mabel! I'm trying to focus!" a boy scolded from his seat on the floor, not even looking up from the paper he had on the table in front of him. It looked like a crossword cut out of a newspaper. "What's a six letter word for, 'result of a particularly overwhelming or violent situation’?" Without looking away from the television, a bored man answered in perfect deadpan from a large recliner chair.

"Murder." The boy counted the letters on his fingers and started to fill in the letters. He stopped suddenly and looked up at the man with furrowed brows. You eyed the two curiously. Dipper looked an awful lot like the girl at your side, while the older man looked like your old friend. Stanford never really wore beanies, though, aside from a two-day phase in college, so you safely assumed this was his brother. (Of course, there was also the chin, the posture, the casual clothes, the soda so early in the morning; you could keep going.)

"Dipper! Grunkle Stan!" Mabel called, getting the two males' attention. She raised your hand up in a forced wave the same time you raised your free hand to wave, so you had both hands waving in tandem like a socially-rusty pendulum of pity. "This is the person I told you about! Grunkle Ford's friend from yesterday." You introduced yourself with a smile, dropping your hands as Mabel let go of you.

"Oh, hey! Uh, I'm Dipper Pines. Mabel’s twin," the boy greeted, dropping the pencil onto the coffee table he sat at and scrambling up to shake your hand. This was a family of twins, then. Stanford’s brother stared at you and took a long sip from his can of cola, then pointed at you in a way that made you feel like you should be a little offended.

"I think I know your face. Have we met?" he asked gruffly. You studied him right back, but for the most part, you thought he was just familiar because he had the same face as Stanford. Even then, you were sure any mindful person wouldn’t have much trouble telling them apart. Without delving too deep into it, you shook your head.

"I don't think so. I guess I just have one of those faces. You must be Stanford's brother, though! Stanley, right?" You reached out with a pleasant smile, bending down somewhat, and Stan had enough manners to pop the chair up straight before shaking your hand. You took the opportunity to study him for a second; he had Stanford's eyes, only a bit brighter brown. They had a different sort of character there, too, unique to Stan, but you didn't dwell. Instead, you stood up straight and blinked to break eye contact first, which he seemed to be proud of. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Dipper shared the sentiment before turning around and catching Mabel messing with his crossword. He make an indignant noise, trying to reach the paper while she laughed at him. They were sweet kids. You had a small smile on your face as you watched them, then noticed Stan watching you. His eyes were squinted—not in a glare, more in a studying way—and kind of unfocused, like he was thinking really hard. When he realized you noticed, he made a noise like a huff and a cough as he looked away. Before you could dwell on it, Mabel called your name, grabbed your hand again, and started leading you out of the room.

“We should go down to the basement to find the other two,” she said happily. You looked over your shoulder at Stanley, who was watching the television again. You had the feeling you’d have a lot of chances to speak to him again, so you tried to ignore wanting to stay for a few more minutes. Dipper made an indignant noise and hastily folded up his crossword to stuff the paper and pen into his blue vest, hurriedly following you two.

“Mabel, they might be busy,” he said, glancing up at you. You realized he knew as much as you did considering the reason you were here; that is, nothing. You could also make out a bit of suspicion on his part, but you couldn’t think of anything you did to warrant any caution. Maybe that was just in his nature. Mabel waved her free hand dismissively.

“Psh, they’re not!” she said in a tone that said they were. The three of you went down a hall and made a few turns you could barely keep track of, but the twins didn’t seem too focused on which direction they were taking you in. You wondered how long they've been staying here. Summer had barely begun. “Besides, I go down there all the time to roast s’mores over their little mini blow torches. It’s fine!”

“You what?” Dipper sounded alarmed, and you raised a brow at how dangerous Dipper thought this basement was to elicit the (kind of amusing) look on his face. Mabel let go of you again when you arrived at a door that looked exactly like all the others, save for the faux gold plaque screwed into the wood at an imperfect angle. It had the word “LAB” boldly written on it in pink marker. “You break into the lab to use their bunsen burners for s’mores?”

“Mini blow torches. I can't reach the shelf where they keep the bunsen burners.” Mabel didn’t grace either of you with further elaboration. You noticed a cheap-looking plastic number pad to the right of the door as she lifted a hand to it. Without pause, she entered a seemingly meaningless sequence of symbols. Nothing happened for a second. You glanced down at the twins, then to the door.

Then you jumped back slightly as the door to the basement (lab?) started to rise upwards, into the wall above you. Metal dividers parted to allow entry to an elevator with a single yellow light, which the twins stepped into. You looked at it in awe, following them only when Mabel beckoned you to.

“This is… huh. I can’t imagine this came with the mansion,” you half-joked as the dividers came back in and the door slid back down slowly. Mabel pressed a button and grinned up at you as the elevator began its descent with that same feeling in your gut that elevators always caused.

“Our grunkles made it themselves! McGucket’s real handy.” It sounded like she was bragging a little, and your chest grew warm at the girl’s sincerity. Without really thinking about it, you leaned down a bit as you kept speaking to her. For a second, you thought about how you could relate to Herb now.

“Speaking of, I noticed you mentioned him before. McGucket, is he—” You were cut off by the elevator dinging, and the new door in front of you slid up to reveal a really interesting sight. It was machines galore. A dimly-lit hallway, filled with blinking lights and twitching gauges and, strangely, a faint scent of pine. You looked up at the doorway to where a green pine car freshener, the kind shaped like a tree, swung idly in a breeze you couldn’t quite feel. It vaguely reminded you of something.

“C’mon!” Mabel squealed as she skipped out of the elevator and down the hallway. Dipper rushed after her, reminding her not to touch anything as they looked for their great uncles. You tapped the car freshener in amusement, watching it spin as you stepped out as well. You were immediately hit with the strong smell of steel. The door didn’t close behind you until you were a few steps away, but you didn’t look back at it. Instead, you scanned the equipment lining the hall, following the voices of the young twins.

Some machines were spouting vapor, others beeped and flashed lights. You made a wide arc around a machine with its temperature gauge just over 400 degrees fahrenheit and resisted the urge to poke at another that read below -20. The machinery led you to a wider room just ahead with brighter lighting, and your steps quickened with your desire to build some distance between you and such dangerous equipment before you decided to mess with one. You could hear Mabel and Dipper, as well as a third voice, then the fainting footsteps of someone leaving the room.

“Can I eat that?” Mabel asked. You walked even faster, though you figured Dipper wouldn’t let his sister do anything that would be detrimental to her health. It wasn’t him that answered, though, and the Southern drawl that pierced the air made you stop in your tracks. Your hand came up to your chest at a sudden pang of nostalgia.

“Watch out! That's a toxic carbon compound concentrated so intensely, yer hair'll turn to oil and yer fingernails'll melt clean off with just a touch!” someone replied in a panic, the thick accent much like an old tune you couldn’t get out of your head. An anxious silence followed and the person laughed with a muffled clap, like they just slapped their knee. “I'm just pullin' yer leg. It's caramel. Help yerself!"

You turned a corner in time to see Mabel eagerly scooping caramel from a small container with her finger. She was sitting in a metal stool at a metal desk. Dipper wasn’t in the room, but a short man was hunched over a machine a few feet away from her. He had the posture of someone who had poor posture for a while, and a black welding mask over his face from what you could see from behind. You looked away from the flying sparks and immediately noticed Mabel was turned away as well. You were glad she knew how to avoid being blinded by such work.

“Oh!” The girl noticed you when she shoved a big glob of amber syrup into her mouth. She said your name through the sticky caramel, speaking loud enough to be heard over the welding iron. “McGucket, this is the new friend I was telling you about! Look!”

You stood a bit straighter in anticipation, staring as the man stopped his work and turned to look over his shoulder. He put his welding torch down and reached up to take his mask off, and it felt like time had slowed down. He stared at you with wide, surprised eyes, and you felt like your face looked simila _Intelligent eyes, a brilliant smile, thick hazel hair, loud gut laughter, nonsense exclamations, folded arms, raised voices, blown pupils, accusing jabs, harsh whispers, whispers, whispers whispers whispers whispers you couldn't stop hearing whispe_ You stared at Fiddleford McGucket and he stared back, shrinking slightly with the stretch of silence between you.

Then a grin grew on your face and your instinct took the reigns. You took a large step forward, arms barely open for a hug when he lit up and started to hobble over to you in his shoes that looked brand new. He took a few steps at first, then picked up speed until he was running across the room. You rushed forward to meet him in a tight embrace, managing to lift him up with a gleeful laugh and spinning around once before setting him back on the ground.

“Well, I never!” he hollered, his piercing voice doing nothing to reflect how much skinnier he seemed to have gotten. You laughed as he patted your back a few times, then pulled away to look at you, saying your name in a way that reminded you of soft strums of a well-loved banjo and warm biscuits fresh out the oven. “If it ain’t my old assistant!” You laughed again at that, your hands on his shoulders as his hands proudly went to his hips as if allowing you to observe him.

“You’re the assistant, you sap! Goodness, look at you,” you gasped, leaning this way and that as if to see him from different angles. Fiddleford’s white beard was wildly outgrown, but the ends looked like they’d been trimmed recently. He had uneven patches of hair on his head like it was growing back different areas at a time and goofy glasses with thick green lenses that made his eyes look huge. He looked so silly. You thought it was endearingly fitting. Your hands moved to cup Fiddleford's face, a few strands of white beard hair poking out from between your fingers. Having your old friend's face in your hands, his eyes shining with mirth and looking up at you, made your heart melt straight into the floor. You cooed, “Oh, Fidds, we’re so old!”

“Woah, woah, wait! Hold the phone.” Mabel brought her hand to her cheek, her thumb and pinky outwards to symbolize a cellphone. The two of you looked over at the same time, and you felt kind of bad for forgetting she was there for a moment. She dutifully kept her hand phone there as she continued, looking happy in a confused sort of way, “You two know each other? McGucket, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“We were really close friends in Backupsmore,” you explained cheerily, letting go of Fiddleford only to lean your elbow on his shoulder. He didn’t complain, so you crossed your ankles and pointed a thumb at him, ignoring the ache in your face from grinning for so long. “This guy, me, and Stanford made quite the trio! Say, where’s that great uncle of yours, anyway?”

Right on cue, your name was called questioningly by a deep voice. You looked up from Mabel, who had respectfully put down the fake phone, to Stanford and Dipper as they entered the room from around a corner. Just how big was this basement? Stanford looked surprised to see you, but the surprise melted into fondness as he looked between you and your old friend. There was silence for a few seconds as you could only bring yourself to smile back, and Dipper cleared his throat.

“Mabel, come over here to talk about nothing,” he said, sidestepping a few times to plant his hands on his sister’s back and push her out of the room.

“Wha—Hey, watch the caramel, watch the caramel!” she protested, but she let Dipper shove her out of earshot anyway.

When the twins were out of the room, you stood up straight and slung your arm around Fiddleford, feeling him throw an arm around your waist in return. He seemed so much smaller in stature now. The silence filled the space between you and Stanford this time. He looked nostalgic, and you could definitely say you felt the same. Without thinking, you reached your free hand out to him and your smile turned a bit lopsided as the weight of the situation sunk in.

“How do we look, old man?” you joked, though it fell a little flat as your throat tightened a bit. Stanford took a step closer to the two of you, and the happiness in your chest gave way to a grim reminder of sleepless nights and lonely midnight walks that felt so very far away. You fought to keep yourself as optimistic as you'd been for the past few decades of your life. “Like we’re ready for an all-nighter? Planning an afternoon in the school library?”

“Like we’ve been apart far too long,” Stanford replied. Your smile fell at his sincerity. Emotion welled up in you, both warm and cold, and you couldn't come up with a reply as Stanford came close enough to take your hand. Without saying anything more, both you and Stanford’s hands moved in tandem to lock your fingers together. His six digits interlaced with yours in a way you'd been craving for ever since seeing him at the diner, and you felt that all-too familair sting in your nose that came about when your body wanted to cry by your brain screamed for it not to. You looked up at your friend for a second, his eyes soft and his smile weighed in a way that made your gut twist.

Then you pulled him suddenly, making him lose his footing. Stanford fell into you with a surprised grunt as you nudged Fiddleford over, and then you had your arms wrapped tightly around your two best friends. They had been away for so long, and now they were—all of you were here. Together. Your eyes were clenched tightly as you gripped onto them, and it felt like the past years of wandering were finally catching up to you. You had been everywhere, meeting everyone, and yet...

You had been so alone. You had been so, so _alone._

The two of them were stunned for less than a second before their arms were around you as well, the smell of electrical wiring, bitter coffee, and old books bringing you comfort you didn’t know you needed until you had it. You took a shaky breath in, then exhaled, squeezing Fiddleford’s shoulder as Stanford rested his chin on your head. You clung to the security of your friends, finally feeling surrounded by relieving warmth after being in the cold for longer than you could comprehend.

The three of you didn’t part for a while, even when you decided to rub your face in Stanford’s turtleneck to rid of a tear. That brought a small protest from him and a soft laugh from you and Fiddleford. The three of you were making up for lost time, you supposed, and you hugged them even closer at the thought. None of you wanted to break the hug, but you were ultimately the one to gather yourself and pull away enough to cheekily grin up at them with a flushed nose and cheeks.

"You two owe me forty years of hugs."

*

"Please, _please,_  put the cursed thing down," Stanford said desperately, hands clasped together and brows furrowed painfully.

"No," Fiddleford replied immediately, not even sparing him a glance and looking way too proud of himself.

"Why not?!"

"I'm havin' _fun,_ Stanford."

"That isn’t an excuse at all!"

The three of you were in the library one evening, which was completely empty save for your group. It never saw much use from Backupsmore students, especially not after dark. You and Stanford had met the student librarian and engineering major Fiddleford McGucket just weeks ago. You had caught them arguing over the checkout policy after Fidds had to deny him borrowing too many books at once. You two had become fast friends, and after some supposed bonding in Hyper-Advanced Engineering, Stanford had taken an interest in him as well. (Engineering definitely wasn't your thing. You could barely operate a screwdriver.)

Not only was the guy really smart, he was super sweet. That was the reason you'd become friends with him, after all. He often let you hold his arm when you were walking together, especially in the crowded cafeteria or campus center. You could always count on him to help you with an assignment when Stanford was busy or offer you two company when you conveniently made dinner for three instead of two. Fiddleford had a big heart and a bigger smile, but… well, that didn't mean he hated to irritate Stanford every once in a while.

Right now, he was happily playing the banjo as your tutor pleaded with him to shut up. Stanford was very rude the first time, and Fiddleford had made the executive decision to play a little faster, louder, his hands expertly moving along the neck and strumming and plucking all with an innocent smile on his face. He was very talented, and when you'd complimented him so, he'd thanked you with a short, gentle fingerpicking of a sweet melody before going back to the banjo chaos.

"I just want quiet. Two minutes of quiet. _Please_ be quiet."

"Quiet? I dunno nothin' 'bout no quiet, Stanford. I only know banjo."

"Fidds, he looks like he's going to either rush out or rush _you._ Take a little break," you said, trying not to laugh at Stanford's expense. Your tutor looked at you gratefully at the same time Fiddleford quieted down a little to consider you with an amused smile.

"Well," he drawled, his Southern accent draping over his words heavily, "alright. Anythin' for you, darlin', since ya asked so nicely. Unlike someone else I know." He looked back at Stanford, expression turning a little smug for a few seconds.

"Thank you, Fidds," you chirped, not minding the nickname of endearment. One thing you noticed after becoming friends with Fiddleford is that he had an apt use for every sweet nickname in the book. Darling, pumpkin, sugar, honey—all with the same Southern charm to it that had, on more than one occasion, made you flush. He meant it as nothing more than platonic towards everyone, though, so you'd quickly cooled down and started to take his pet names in stride.

"Yes. Thanks." Stanford's tone was clipped and his eyes narrowed at Fiddleford for a fraction of a second before he turned to one of the many textbooks on the table in front of him. Out of the three of you, he was the only one who hadn't stopped studying an hour or so ago.

"Stanford, you take a break, too," you scolded lightly, but one glance at the analog clock on the library wall had you making a face. "Geez. Actually, I think we should be heading to our dorms by now. It's getting a little late, even for the astronomy majors." Your two friends looked at the time and agreed to leave, though one took more pestering than the other to start packing his things. Fiddleford locked up the library for the night after Stanford somehow managed to shove his excessive amount of books into his bag.

The women's dorms were a few minutes away from the men's on foot, and both were fifteen minutes from the college library. Your friends always walked the extra few minutes to get you to your dorm safe, though, even when it wasn't dark by the time you all parted ways. Tonight's walk back was filled with only the occasional small talk and comments about certain courses or exams. You were more interested in looking up at the stars over the dark campus, glittering and gleaming down at you.

"Here ya are, hun." Fiddleford called your attention when he saw you were only half paying attention to where you were going. You tore your gaze away from the night sky as the three of you came to a slow stop at the women's dormitory entrance.

"Thank you for walking me," you said habitually, turning around to smile at your friends. Fiddleford nodded at you and Stanford followed suit, but his stare was kind of off, as if he were thinking of something. He got lost in his own head sometimes, especially after studying for a while, so you paid it no mind. "I had fun studying with you guys. Have a good night, okay?"

"Shucks, every night's good if you're there to wish it on us," Fiddleford grinned, the playfulness in his tone making you laugh a little to ignore the creeping flush on your neck. "You have a good night, too, darlin’, y'hear?" With another nod and a little wave, Fiddleford turned and nodded at Stanford, a nonverbal note that he could catch up soon. By now, he knew Stanford seemed to take an extra minute or two to say his parting words and did better at it when you two were alone. When the engineer was out of sight with one last exuberant wave, you looked at your tutor.

Stanford said your name, taking a breath as if to speak, but then paused and closed his mouth. You tilted your head forward to let him know you were listening, expecting the usual reminder of coursework and meeting time, but the man just sort of… stared at you for a second. Like he had something important to say, but needed the best way to go about saying it. You were very patient when it came to him, but when there were another few beats of silence, you spoke up.

"Stanford?" Your quiet, curious voice seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and you only just noticed he'd taken a step closer to you. He cleared his throat with one six-fingered fist at his mouth, his brown eyes darting away from you and instead looking everywhere else. You leaned forward, but couldn't quite catch his eye. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's—nothing is wrong," he assured you. You went to ask what the matter was, then, but Stanford just reached out to tuck a stray few pieces of hair behind your ear, still avoiding direct eye-contact. That rendered you speechless, and your breath hitched in your throat. He seemed to notice, his gaze snapping over to your face, which made you flush in embarrassment. He continued, softer this time, "I just…"

You stared up at Stanford, who kept eye contact even when you didn't say anything. For a second, a sweet moment passed when there was only the silence of the night to fill the gap between you two. He had leaned down a little, too, still returning your curious stare. He had this look on his face like—like—

"It's nothing," he said suddenly, reminding you where you were. You broke the stare first, glancing away for a few seconds to blink several times as he let his hand fall from your hair. When you looked up, Stanford was standing tall, his hands behind his back. He still fixed you with an unreadable stare, but you were more focused on catching your breath than analyzing how he was looking at you. "Have a good night, my dear."

"Y-Yeah," you stuttered, coughing a little into the back of your hand when you noticed it. "Uh, you, too, Stanford. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He nodded, and for a second you could see the ghost of a satisfied smile on his face before he turned away from you and started walking to catch up with your other friend. There were a few plucks of a banjo in the distance, right on cue, and Stanford started walking a little quicker.

You chuckled at the shrinking silhouette of the man, his shadow following him under the dim campus lights lining the path. You turned to fish your dorm key out of your bookbag, entering the building and making sure the door shut behind you before heading up to your room. It was only after you had taken a quick shower and got into bed that you thought over your strange parting conversation with Stanford. He had acted totally weird, right? That wasn't just you? With a soft sigh, you dismissed it, about to drift off, when—

_"Have a good night, my dear."_

"Woah." You said aloud, your eyes snapping open. You looked straight up, eyebrow raised at the bare ceiling of your room as you thought. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Why would he say that? Surely, he slipped up. Or he was trying to copy Fiddleford for some reason. You rolled over slightly, kicking the blanket away from you when you suddenly felt overheated, and shut your eyes tight.

It was nothing, you were sure. The two of your were only friends, and that came a short while after he'd become your tutor. You tried to sleep on that note, but you couldn't when his deep, gravelly voice repeated those words over and over in your head. Especially when that got you thinking of your tutor's face, how he seemed to soften when you smiled at him, how the tenseness in his shoulders dropped a little with your laughter, how your chest did this weird flippy thing when he lent you a pencil and your hands touched for a fleeting moment.

How he stole glances at you when he thought you weren't watching him in your peripheral, how he looked down at you less than half an hour ago with shining affection in his gaze, how his deep brown eyes reflected the glimmering stars above, and _nope,_ this was _not_ happening tonight. You had a quiz tomorrow. With a huff, you rolled onto your side and tugged the blanket up to your shin harshly before shutting your eyes.

The next morning, you got a low B on your quiz. It was only because you hadn't studied as much as you should have; definitely not because you were daydreaming, or anything goofy like that. Your voice cracks when you first greet Stanford in the library that afternoon and you pretend not to notice Fiddleford raising a brow from the library's front counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, this story is moving kinda slow at first but i mean for it to pick up in the next few chapters. i also mean to update more reliably, which is why i'm looking for a beta or two! or three! no experience required because i've never had a beta before lol. if you're interested at all, reply to my comment below! i'm lowkey (highkey) desperate for help and maybe we can even become friends!
> 
> in the meantime, thanks so much for reading! please comment what you think is cool or uncool! new chapter coming up soon fellas whoo


	4. Making Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the kids make pancakes while Stanford does nothing to help. You also think about... What was I going to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! I got an awesome new beta and we're working to give you guys awesome content every weekend!
> 
> From now on, me and Eve are working to update this fic every Friday or Saturday. If we miss a week, you can count on an off-schedule update to make up for it so you can enjoy as much as we can give you!
> 
> This chapter came before Eve joined me, so this is going to be the last slow chapter. Hope you enjoy!

_I look forward to seeing you every day._

*

"Do you ever wonder how many people are doing the exact same thing as us?" you murmured, refusing to move from your position. The small television in front of you cast soft blue light onto you and your friend's face, blinking and turning different colors with the mind-numbing ad onscreen.

"Doing what?" Stanford hummed, clearly only half listening to you. He didn't move either, aside from the hand continuing to curl locks of your hair around his finger. "Being twenty something-or-other and watching cartoons, ignoring our coursework?"

 _"Relaxing."_ You huffed out a laugh and finally dragged your gaze from the screen to your friend's face, having to move your head a bit to do so. You were laying your head in Stanford's lap as he sat up, the both of you sprawled over your bed. Your little television played across from you two, set up on wiry little legs that looked like they’d break any day now.

Luckily, you had been one of the Backupsmore students to have their roommate drop out before graduating. You had your own room to yourself, and Stanford wasn't bothering anyone whenever he came over to help you study. Right now though, you had convinced him to take a break from his String Theory homework (“It’s not _nerdy,_ it’s cool!”) and just hang out with you. You two were over an hour into mindless TV time, and it was starting to get dark out.

"But seriously," you continued, your gaze off to the side somewhere even though you were facing Stanford. "There are so many coincidences going on in the world, right? At least, we can safely assume. Don't you ever wonder if you're doing something at the same time as, y'know, some guy named… I don’t know, Alexander? From, like, California?"

"Alexander from California?" Stanford echoed, amused. You noticed his digit twirling in your hair had paused and you tried to ignore the disappointment you felt. Instead, you snorted in laughter and waved a hand in the air.

"No, no, forget I said that. I'm trying to be dreamy or whatever! You know, like… imagine looking up at the moon. Or a specific constellation. Actually, since it's happening soon, imagine watching this evening's sunset." You gestured vaguely towards the window of your dorm room, too relaxed to even fathom moving from your position.

"I can imagine, yes," he humored you. You looked back at him to see he hadn’t looked at the window at all, but was still staring down at you. You gave him a little grin and tried not to acknowledge the way your heart paused for a second when he returned it.

"And then someone else. Maybe in another country, watching the sunrise. Maybe just in another state, watching the sunset with you." You paused, thinking for a second. "Okay, I guess sunsets are more likely to be stared at than sunrises on a daily basis. But you know what I'm saying, right?” Stanford looked at the window then, and you continued.

“Every time you're doing something, every time you think you're having a special little moment or a special little day, someone else you don't know is probably experiencing the exact same thing. Someone you might not ever meet or haven’t seen in a long time is watching the same sunrise or the same moon with you. Isn't that insane?"

He didn't reply to you right away. When a solid minute passed, you figured he wouldn't answer you at all. His eyes were still looking out your window, though he looked more focused on his own thoughts than the sunset. Staring at him like this, with the early evening light pouring through your window, you could see every little detail in Stanford’s face. A freckle on his cheek, a crease near his eye, an eyelash just slightly out of place.

You never got to watch him think much, but right now, as he thought about watching the same setting sun as another person who wasn’t in this room with the two of you…

He looked a little sad. Like someone who had done something another lifetime ago that they couldn’t quite come to terms with; or, rather, someone who had watched something happen another lifetime ago and didn’t feel as satisfied with their inaction as they might have thought they were.

You looked back at the TV just as he took a breath in, trying to maintain a neutral expression on your face. On the television, a new cartoon was playing. The music was quiet, but far too energetic for the tone of your friend’s voice when he spoke up next.

"Sharing an experience with someone you'll never see again is an interesting thought, yes. One that I… Well. I would be lying if I hadn’t thought of it once or twice," he admitted, and you nodded from where your head sat on his thighs just above his knees. You opened your mouth to say something before Stanford looked down at you then, his finger twirling and his smile kind, and you couldn’t form words anymore. Your mouth quickly shut. His brown eyes stayed on you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He continued.

"But I'd much rather think about watching the same sunset with you, for now. If that's alright." You stared at him for a second, lips parting as heat crept up your face. After a few seconds of your gawking, you laughed flusteredly and looked away, a goofy grin on your face. All at once, the wonder and silent concern dissipated from your mind. Stanford was here, right now, with his hand in your hair and the sunset carefully painting his face with its colors. You wanted to focus on that.

"You're such a nerd," you said. Stanford looked a bit taken aback, but you let yourself glance up at him again with a grin. Against your better judgement, you reached up with one hand to skim your fingertips over the freckle on his cheek. When you caught yourself, you adjusted his glasses for him.

He flushed, the color seeping over his cheeks and ears, and you looked out the window to spare him your gaze. You couldn't see the sunset from where you lay, but you could see the pinks and oranges and yellows blooming across the sky as you said, "I think that's a much nicer thought than what I came up with. Let's do that."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Stanford watch you for another few moments before he looked up at the window as well. He hummed in agreement, the sound low in his chest, and you couldn't help but sneak a few glances at his thoughtful expression and strong jaw every now and then. The two of you didn't speak up further until after dark, the music from the evening cartoon serving as more than adequate background noise.

*

“You can stay in this guest room for however long you'd like,” Stanford said once you’d left all your equipment into your room. You noted that it was the last door, furthest from the staircase you two had just gone up. When you looked back at your friend, he was smiling at you kindly. “Mostly everyone’s else’s rooms are on this floor as well. The kids have signs on theirs down the hall, and Stanley’s is the last door on the other end. The room right next to yours is technically mine, but, ah, if you want to find me at any point, I’m usually working with Fiddleford in the lab. That, or my study on the first floor, which Mabel has labeled.”

“That’s a clever way of saying you sleep in the lab most of the time,” you teased lightly. His face grew a little pink and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He fumbled to change the subject as you leaned against the doorframe, amused.

“Y-Yes, well, Fiddleford has no use for most of the living space here, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you redecorating or anything like that. It may be a bit stuffy in there, since he hasn’t quite put any of the rooms to use besides the lab and his room near my study.” You hummed in acknowledgement, glad the windows in the room were so large. You’d opened up all of them, and the warm afternoon breeze was already getting rid of the stale air behind you. Still, you were a little worried.

“Stanford, are you sure it’s alright with everyone if I stayed with you all?" you asked finally, gaining his attention again. "Fiddleford seemed very adamant and I know Mabel was the one to invite me, but I don’t want to make you or the other two put-off by me being here most nights.” Your friend looked a bit confused for a moment, but shook his head.

“I assure you, they won’t mind. I certainly don’t. Dipper will warm up to you in no time, and Stanley should be the same. If he doesn’t, he has no grounds to kick you out himself,” Stanford said matter-of-factly. You forgot how blunt he could be, but you supposed that was one of the reasons you liked him so much. Back in college, that is. With the assurance, you stepped out of the doorway and turned to close the bedroom door. “If my brother gives you any trouble, don’t hesitate to let me know. I’ll knock some sense into him.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you said honestly, though you knew he wouldn’t do that to his brother. Hopefully. Stanford gestured to the hall and the two of you started walking down the long corridor. “Well, whether he enjoys my company or not, I won’t be in the house much anyway. There’s so much forest to explore. I was actually planning on going out again today.”

"Ah, yes. About that." You perked up at Stanford's quick response and turned to look at him. He had his hands folded behind his back, though his arms moved in a way that made it obvious he was fidgeting. He said your name, continuing, "I was hoping to… Well, I was—Would it be forward of me to ask… er…" You raised a brow at his stumbling for a second before understanding what he meant to say. The thought of it made excitement swell up in you and you stepped forward with a grin.

"Stanford," you said excitedly, holding your hands out in front of you without thinking about it. The man's gaze snapped up to yours like a deer in headlights, and after a moment, he placed his hands in your own. You moved yours to lace your fingers together, internally fawning over the familiar motion. "Would you like to help me with my research in the field?"

Your friend's face lit up to match your expression, as bright at the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows, and you leaned forward in anticipation. He squeezed your hands, and the excited little grin on his face definitely didn't make your heart skip a beat. Not in the slightest. Not even when he leaned forward less than an inch and said your name in an equally happy tone.

"I would be honored!" Stanford accepted, and you laughed only because you couldn't come up with another reaction. For some reason, words seemed to fail you. He suddenly seemed to realize how close you were and when his eyebrows shot up comically, you pretended to notice at the same time. The two of you released each other and he folded his hands behind his back again, clearing his throat. You awkwardly clasped your hands in front of you. "Y-Yes, well, if the invitation applies to today, I would certainly like to join you. Are you sure I won't be a distraction to your studies?"

"Not more than you usually are." The words slipped out of your mouth without thinking, but you quickly reached out to gently poke at your friend's chest to look like you were just teasing him. You quickly changed the subject before Stanford could properly register that sentence. "I was planning on getting myself some brunch before going out. Have you guys eaten?" He looked a little thrown-off, but the mention of food derailed his train of thought.

"Ah, well, I haven't. Neither has Fiddleford, I'm afraid." Stanford scratched at the side of his cheek in thought before the two of you continued down the hallway. He reached out when you got to the stairs, looking like he might offer an arm, but thought better of it. Instead of mentioning it, you kept walking. "I'm sure we have some food stocked, though I can't say I know my way around the kitchen."

"You never have," you hummed, this time not having to pretend you were teasing. When Stanford showed you to the kitchen, you immediately set him to the task of asking whether anyone else wanted breakfast as you took inventory of the food in the mansion. There wasn’t much.

The place had a large kitchen, definitely made to be staffed by actual chefs and servers. For the general size and the fact that there was a walk-in fridge, though, there weren't many groceries on hand; an empty carton of eggs, an almost-empty carton of milk that smelled sour (you tossed those out), and the occasional sugary cereal and instant food. There was an abundance of TV dinners in the walk-in freezer, which was probably the closest you'd get to finding actual meals. It was kind of unnerving.

Mabel was the first to bounce into the kitchen, just in time to catch you in the middle of dumping some instant pancake mix into a large mixing bowl at one of the kitchen counters. You had found a few boxes of the stuff, and had them all out in front of you. You looked up at her entrance and grinned at her enthusiasm, greeting her.

"Has great uncle Ford shown you your room? Do you like it?" she asked immediately, launching herself onto a barstool that looked far too worn and rickety to have come with a place like this. The stool tipped at her sudden weight, and you effortlessly reached out to catch and balance it again before it could lean too far. Mabel either didn't notice or didn't mind, because she just smiled up at you from her seat.

"He has. I think it's way more comfortable than any other place I've stayed at," you replied honestly, shaking more mix into the bowl and then deciding to pour the whole box in. Just then, Dipper entered the kitchen, followed by Stanford. You noted that the scientist glanced around the room curiously, like he'd never actually been in the kitchen before. Then you noted you should really stop staring at the guy every time he came into the room. "Hey, guys. You hungry?"

"Always!" Mabel shouted, pumping her fists into the air and precariously leaning forward in her seat. You smoothly reached out again to keep her stool from falling. When she was steady, you started to open another box of mix. "Oh man, I haven't had pancakes in days!”

“Yes you did.” Dipper stood next to where his sister sat, seemingly aware of the need to prepare for catching her. You found a whisk in a utensil drawer and set it on the counter as the boy continued, “You had, like, a whole stack yesterday.”

“Greasy’s stacks are only a few!”

“You ate my stack in the four minutes it took me to use the bathroom.”

“You snooze, you lose, Dip Dop.”

"I certainly hope you guys haven’t been solely eating pancakes. I can make other breakfast meals if we get more ingredients," you said, taking the bowl to the kitchen sink. You inspected the tap water for a moment before starting to add it to the mix. "I noticed the kitchen is huge, but you guys don't have much to eat in here. Who does the grocery shopping?" As you watched the water fill up the bowl, you were met with a concerning amount of silence. You stopped the running water and turned around.

"Uh, Stan does," Dipper said after a fake cough. He had his arms crossed and an awkward expression on his face, looking anywhere but you. "He just hasn't had the chance yet. We've only been here a few days." A beat passed, and no one said anything. Mabel's smile looked a little dim and Stanford stared down at the counter with an oddly troubled look on his face. Dipper glanced at them and noticed this as well, quickly straightening his posture and trying to seem nonchalant. "We like to get takeout from town, or have food delivered! Our diets aren't as bad as it looks. Besides Mabel's."

"I keep telling you, as long as you run around afterwards, you're allowed to eat whatever you want!" the girl spoke up quickly. Dipper looked exasperated, like they'd had this conversation before. You returned to the counter and started to whisk the pancake batter together.

"Running in a circle every time you eat a handful of sugar isn't healthy, Mabel!"

"It cancels out! Pemdas, Dipper!"

The room's previous, energetic atmosphere was restored, but you couldn't help but dwell a little on what you just heard. Before you could start asking questions, though, Stanford answered them for you. You looked at him as he spoke, but he kept his eyes on the kids.

"Stanley isn't too familiar with most of the townsfolk anymore," he admits quietly, leaning on the counter beside you. "They know him, but after spending so much time overseas, we’re afraid he doesn't quite recall who everyone is. He does plan to go out soon besides helping with the Mystery Shack, but we don't want to overwhelm him all at once. Mabel is doing an exemplary job of reminding him who everyone is before then."

Something about that didn't really feel right. The way Stanford said it made you think there was a lot of information tucked away behind those few sentences. Though, after staring at his unreadable expression for a moment, you tried to ignore it. What Stan could and couldn't remember was none of your concern—you had the occasional memory slip, too, and you certainly wouldn't want a stranger dwelling on them. You nodded in understanding.

"Maybe we can all go grocery shopping someday," you offered instead of asking any questions. The Pines had their own business, and you would respect that. However, that didn't mean you couldn't help them eat a little better. You smiled at the kids when they both looked at you. "If we all go as a group, or ask everyone for a list, we can get some stuff that everybody wants. If you guys are up for it, of course."

The three of them voiced their assent and you asked Dipper to find you a frying pan. They didn't have any butter left, but Mabel, for some reason, kept a stash of maple syrup in her room and rushed away for a minute to retrieve an unopened bottle. Dipper found some vegetable oil and the two of you decided it would be better than nothing to keep the pancakes from sticking. You left Stanford to do his own thing in case he had to leave at some point midway through, and tried not to think about him following you around and peeking over your shoulder whenever you moved.

"Does this batter look thick enough?" you asked no one in particular, whisking through it a few times. It looked a little thin. "Maybe not. Stanford, can you grab another box of mix for me, please?"

"Of course," he replied, reaching over to slide one to you. Without looking, you took it and easily tore it open. "Here you are, my dear."

"Thanks." You poured some powder in before registering the nickname and suddenly pausing. My dear. There was definitely some heat on your face, but you refused to change your facial expression to acknowledge it. After a second, you realized you'd just poured a big, powdery mountain into your large bowl and quickly set the mix down. "Shoot, my bad. Uh, let me get by you for a second, Stanford."

You grabbed the bowl, trying and somewhat-succeeding to keep in the strangled sound you made as you came face-to-face with Stanford's chest. Luckily, years of chasing, fleeing, and dodging granted you the instinctive movement of spinning immediately to duck away from the man so you wouldn't pour batter all over his sweater. You hadn’t even realized you’d done it until you caught his look of surprise. Truly, this was the peak of your international travels.

"Well, um, how many pancakes can you guys eat?" You looked over your shoulder as you added some more tap water, only to whip your head right back to the bowl again when Mabel was waggling her eyebrows at you.

"As many as it takes for you and grunkle Ford to get stackin'! Heyo!" Mabel whooped, and you fumbled to turn off the tap. Dipper let out a shocked laugh, but tried to cover it up with aggressively clearing his throat with his fist at his mouth. He failed. You grabbed the bowl, whisking it more vigorously than you needed to as you returned to the counter beside the stove.

"I'm gonna need a few numbers, kids, in case we need to use the rest of the mix," you said awkwardly. The smile on your face felt kind of lopsided with how flustered you were, but you were glad the kids were comfortable enough around you to crack jokes (even if they were at your expense.) "You, too, Stanford. Did your brother and Fidds want some breakfast? We certainly have enough batter for them." When you looked back at the man, he was fake coughing into his fist, trying to cover his flush with his hand. The Pines family really had some glaring similarities.

"Uh, yes, they do. I suppose we'll all have a late breakfast today," he huffed, mindfully stepping a respectful distance away from you so you wouldn't have to maneuver yourself out of his way again. You appreciated the elbow space and pushed your sleeves up as Dipper handed you a ladle for the batter. You thanked him and made sure there was some oil in the heated pan before pouring your first pancake.

"A late breakfast is better than no breakfast, especially if we're going to be outside for long. Think you can handle a whole day away from your lab, old man?" You glanced at him with a small grin, and he straightened a little at your gaze, huffing out a small chuckle. You looked away and grabbed a spatula Dipper found, offering it to the kids once you got their attention. "Can one of you flip this thing while I find a plate?"

Mabel took the spatula eagerly before Dipper could reach for it, promptly planting her hand on his face when he tried to take it out of her grasp. You smiled at their antics even as you walked away to find a cupboard with the plates. As you took down a few at a time, you wondered just how much money this place had cost for it to come fully-furnished. Downstairs, Fiddleford told you his grant money was enough to pay for everything he needed for a long while. It warmed your heart to know your friend was getting so much reward for all his hard work. Last you'd seen him, he'd been working on personalized computers. It was a shame he didn't get to perfect those things before—

Stanford called your name suddenly, over and over like he’d been doing it for longer than you could have noticed, and you came to the abrupt realization that you had just dropped a plate onto the counter. Luckily, it hadn’t fallen off or chipped, but the sound must have been enough to call attention to it.

When you turned around, the foggy daze in your head lifted just as you noticed it was there. You lifted a hand to the back of your head, feeling… something. Nothing? You dropped your hand, only to hold your palms up in front of you a second later in an attempt to placate Stanford. The man had already started to fuss over you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? You dropped a plate and then you wouldn't reply to any of us," he said hurriedly, taking your hands in his and looking them over before eyeing your arms for, you guessed, some kind of injury. Of course, there was nothing there. His hands grazed your shoulders, then continued upwards.

"No, no, I'm fine!" You glanced at the kids, frowning a little when you saw the worry on their faces. Stanford's hands cupped both sides of your face, then, and your attention went back to him. Vaguely, you noted that his palms took up an awful lot of space around your head. You wiggled your head back to slide out of his gentle touch, reaching up to grab his wrists and lead them away from you. "Stanford, I'm fine," you insisted.

"But you…" You gave him a look and he trailed off, staring at you for another few seconds, before sighing. You released his wrists and he backed away from you. You hadn't notice it before, but he had practically cornered you against the counter. You fixed your hair where it had gotten a bit frazzled at the sides. "Okay. If you say so. You just... had this look in your eye."

"I was just spacing out. I must have lost my grip," you dismissed, turning around to grab the plates and walking past Stanford to place the stack on the counter carefully. You offered a smile to Dipper and Mabel, who seemed to be having a wordless conversation through meaningful glances. "It was nothing, kids, I promise. I can't even remember what I was thinking about. I'll just grab some water and I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Mabel asked, her voice concerned. It was a stark contrast to how carefree you’d always seen her be, and you felt bad for freaking them out. You nodded, though, and she and Dipper seemed relieved. The silent conversation between them ended, and their shoulders slowly untensed.

"I'll find myself a glass—I actually haven't had anything to drink in an hour. That's why staying hydrated is important!" You gave the twins a more genuine grin and a thumbs-up, and they seemed to perk up at that. Dipper agreed wholeheartedly and Mabel returned the gesture with a toothy smile. You looked at Stanford and he stared at you for a second before releasing a small sigh and nodding with a smile. It was obvious he was still a little tense, but he seemed to let it go for the most part.

"You can get some water right over here. Come." He waved a hand to lead you, grabbing a few glasses from the cupboard and then pouring the four of you a drink of cool water from one of the fridges. You thanked him for the drink as you followed him back to the stove where Mabel was trying to bet on whether she could flip the pancake using only the pan, but you couldn't help but let your mind wander again.

You had given Mabel the spatula, then gone to get the plates… You racked your brain for what happened next, what you must have heard or thought of to make you drop the plate, but you came up with nothing. Before you reached the kids again, you discreetly shook your head and took a long sip of water. You had just lost your train of thought and spaced out, is all. It couldn't have been that important, anyway, if it was so easily forgettable.

"Dipper, can you do me a favor and take batter-pouring duty?" you asked, stirring the batter a little and then offering him the ladle. Mabel begrudgingly used the spatula to flip the pancake, then made a noise of accomplishment when it turned out looking good.

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Dipper said, accepting the utensil with a grin of someone who liked contributing. Mabel lifted the pan to turn the pancake onto a plate with a happy “Boom! One!”

"Thanks, champ." You leaned against the counter and took another sip of water. As you drank, you couldn’t help but glance at Stanford over the rim of your cup.

He was looking over the kids fondly, smiling a little when Mabel made fun of Dipper for something and earned a smear of batter on her face. She laughed and tried to return the favor, but Dipper kept ducking out of her reach with a smile on his face. You chuckled at them, the strange emptiness in your mind fading to the back of your thoughts.

*

Breakfast was nice. You'd forgotten what it felt like to eat with a bunch of friendly people, the jokes and chatter drifting over the food in a unique way that could never really happen in a restaurant or food court. Mabel flinging a piece of pancake at Stan when he became too focused to pay attention, Dipper trying to decide whether to cut his pancakes into squares or wedges, Stanford and Fiddleford absentmindedly passing the syrup back and forth as they ate.

You had to remind yourself to keep eating once or twice when you realized you were just bathing in the camaraderie. You had participated in the small talk a few times when you were addressed, but there was something starting to… do something at the back of your mind. Your brows furrowed as you chewed, but when your name was called, you quickly neutralized your expression and looked up. You were a little surprised when you realized Stan had been the one to call you.

"So what are you doin' here anyways? Gravity Falls, I mean," he asked almost suspiciously, and Stanford must have noticed this tone as well because he said his brother's name in a scolding sort of voice. "What? I'm just askin', cool your jets." You waved at your friend to dismiss his worry and smiled at Stan where he sat a few seats down the long dining table.

"I study the paranormal. Your brother kind of got me into it in college, and I managed to get my own grant to study anomalies across the world. I hadn't been in the states for a while, so I thought I'd drop by here for a few months. Gravity Falls is the hotspot in all of North America for this stuff,” you said, a tinge of excitement making its way into your voice even at the mere thought of it.

"Yeah, figures," Stan said, huffing like there was some joke there you didn't get. You tilted your head, but Dipper spoke up as he started to cut his pancakes into equal wedges.

"So you record stuff you've seen and researched all over the world?" he asked, obviously very interested. You nodded, a feeling of pride making you sit up a bit taller.

"You got it. I have a different journal for each place I visit, and most of them are pretty full! I have to say, though, my journal for Gravity Falls is probably the quickest one to get crowded. I'll probably have to start a few more for this town alone, at this rate." You looked down at your plate, starting to cut another piece of pancake for yourself. You didn't notice the second of silence that swept over the table, or the glances the Pines shared with each other. "It's a lot of fun to explore here, really. The locals are super nice."

"Speaking of exploring," Stanford spoke up, breaking the silent spell you weren’t aware of, "let me know when you want to head out. I trust you'll be fully prepared?" You looked up at him, noticing he was almost done with breakfast, and grinned.

"Of course I am." You thought you'd already made great progress with your studies so far, and exploring with Stanford was sure to help you greatly with finding your way through the forest. Mabel looked between you two, her eyes shining with glee.

"Heading out? Like on a date?" She drew out the last word, planting her hands flat on the table with a large grin. Dipper made a face as the syrup on her fork trailed onto the table and started to drip onto the floor.

"Me and Stanford are just exploring," you explained, keeping the embarrassment out of your smile. The whole family was looking at you now, besides Fiddleford. He was pouring more syrup on his pancakes, and upon glancing at Stanford's plate, poured a little on there, too. Stanford noticed this and thanked him, grabbing at his butterknife again to cut himself another piece. "I thought it would be nice to walk around with someone familiar with the area. Plus, it might be a good chance for us to catch up when we take a break."

"Like a date," Stan said with his mouth full, pointing at you and his brother with a fork.

"Not a date," Stanford corrected. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"How 'bout you don't talk, period," came the slightly garbled response. Stanford’s mouth twisted up. The brothers started to bicker and you pursed your lips to avoid laughing at them. They looked just like Dipper and Mabel.

"Hey," Dipper addressed you again, looking a little excited. Though when you looked at him, he broke eye contact quickly and looked a little sheepish. "Can I come? You know, for your—for your research?"

"Oh! Yeah, if you really want to, then—"

"No!"

You and Dipper looked over at Mabel, who had very quickly interjected. She seemed to deflate a little at your surprised gaze, then looked at Dipper and pointed at the kitchen door.

"Dipper, a word?" The teen looked at you, then his sister, and sighed before sliding out of his seat. Mabel hopped out of her chair and smiled innocently at you. "Excuse us." You raised a brow, but shrugged a little and just waved.

When the door closed behind them, effectively giving the twins some privacy, Mabel immediately turned to her brother with her hands on her hips. She frowned at him like he did something wrong.

"What?" Dipper asked, visibly confused.

"What do you mean, 'what?' Dipper, you can't go along with her! At least not today!" Mabel said as if this were very obvious information.

"Why not?" He blinked cluelessly. The girl pinched the bridge of her nose before clapping her hands together and pointing them at her brother.

"She's going with grunkle Ford today," she insisted. "This is their moment! They're bonding! They'll be alone together in the woods, holding hands and sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! You'll be the third wheel and they won't even know it!" Dipper finally understood what this was about.

"Mabel, are you still trying to get them together? I told you last night, they—"

"But you didn't meet her last night! Now you have! Look me in the eyes and tell me they don't have chemistry, Dipper. Look me in the eyes!" She gripped his shoulders, shaking him a little before reaching up to pull her eyelids up with both hands.

"Ugh, stop that," Dipper swatted at her hands, perturbed. He thought of how the two had interacted earlier. You had practically lit up when Ford came into the room, and even a small pet name he didn't even seem to notice using got you to flush. "Okay, maybe they have a little chemistry. But still, won't your meddling be, like… I dunno, a little counterproductive? They might get a little freaked out if you keep trying to nudge them together."

"Duh, that's why I won't be." Mabel folded her arms, grinning in pride. "We'll do it in secret! No nudging allowed!"

"Still, if you—Wait, we?"

"Me, you, and everyone else, silly!"

"Everyone else? Mabel—"

"I will be taking no further comments!" Mabel cheered, pumping her fists in the air. Before Dipper could ask any more questions, Mabel burst through the kitchen door again. You almost jumped at the teen's dramatic entrance, your empty plate and utensils in hand.

"Oh, hey there, Mabel," you chirped, gathering a napkin you'd used and your empty cup of water. "You and your brother finished talking? I was about to clean up, but I didn’t want to interrupt you two."

"We’re finished, but don't ask what we were talking about!" You saw Dipper exit the kitchen behind her as she bounded back to her chair. "It was twin bonding. It's not like it was about you or anything." Her too-casual laugh and little hand wave made you doubt that somewhat, but you nodded nonetheless.

"If you say so! Let me know when you're done and I'll clear your plates for you. Thank you both for helping out so much.” Stanford stood up, seemingly done with his breakfast as well. He gathered his dishes, moving the platter of extra pancakes closer to Fiddleford when the mechanic started to reach for it.

"I'll help you," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He cut you off when you were about to deny his help. "It's the least I can do for breakfast. Come along, now, we'll only need to load the dishwasher and then we can prepare to leave." You huffed, but held the door to the kitchen open for him with a grateful smile.

When it closed behind you two, Mabel turned to Dipper with a syrupy grin, her cheeks puffed out with pancakes. He rolled his eyes at her, uninterested in whatever schemes she had in mind, but curiously glanced at the closed kitchen door when he heard your soft laughter come from behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you'd like to stick around for this note, be my guest!
> 
> As i said in the beginning notes, me and my very cool beta Eve are going to pick up the pace of future chapters so I don't feel bad about hyping everything up and then feeling worried about what I post. From now on, new updates every Friday or Saturday!
> 
> Next chapter is the first one Eve has directly helped me out on and she added a whole bunch to my original plot to make it more enjoyable for your guys! She's very very creative, so it'll definitely knock your socks off!
> 
> But until then, thanks again for reading! Please leave a comment telling me your thoughts about this one or anything in the notes. See you next week!


	5. Nature is Nonbinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're out exploring with Stanford when he gets kidnapped in an unusual way. Saying "please" doesn't always help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be fair, it's only 10 pm where I am. my promise of posting on weekends has technically not been broken.  
> alternate chapter titles:  
>  Leaves Have No Gender  
>  Stems Are They/Thems  
>  Twigs Can Be Twinks
> 
> enjoy!

"And this here would be the Carnivorous Mushroom," Stanford said, pointing at a curiously deep red fungi near the base of the log you two were studying. There were a lot of them in this area, crowding in shady spots and poking out through thin blankets of moss all along logs and tree trunks. You wrote the name in your notebook, glancing up at the mushroom every few seconds and starting to sketch the marbled pattern on its bulbous cap.

"Carnivorous? Does its hyphae specifically break down meat proteins in decaying organisms?" you asked, the scratching of your pencil against the paper proving as background noise for Stanford's hum.

"Not quite! My research shows that this mushroom holds the same nutrients you just can't find in plants, but doesn't have any fat and thus does not increase cholesterol levels like red meat does. A while ago, I started a study that seemed to prove it can substitute for meat entirely." You made a noise in interest, writing quickly. "They produce very quick as well, and in crowded populations."

"That's incredible! A vegan meat substitute with all the same benefits," you commented, grinning down at your journal. "How did you find all this out, Stanford?"

"I tried it myself. Makes a mean burger." You looked up to raise a brow at him, amused. He looked at you when you spoke up, a smile on your face.

"Do you usually eat random mushrooms you find in the forest, or is that after you lick radioactive tree sap?" He huffed out a laugh and you rolled your eyes in good nature. When Stanford turned away and spotted another plant to ramble about, you reached into your boot and flicked open the small switchblade you kept there.

Carefully, you cut the smallest mushroom you could find and rummaged through your pack to grab a small plastic baggie. You tucked the mushroom into it and placed it into your vest for safekeeping. When you got back to the manor, you'd… run some tests. You definitely _weren't_ going to eat it later. That would be dumb! (You were definitely going to eat it later.)

You two were in the woods northeast of the town, and Stanford had suggested you start another journal for the plant life you find. You’d brought along some botany notes from other places to compare later on. So far, you had done a good job of observing most curious flowers, vines, and fruit, but Stanford was a great help in identifying certain plants you couldn't quite figure out the effects or use of. He saved you a lot of time and sample space, and you were happy to have his help.

The day was bright and warm, and without having to carry the many things that were pulling you down, you felt much more light and capable of maneuvering yourself. Stanford was a great help in that sense too, guiding you over especially tricky tree roots and concerningly deep ditches that were shaped suspiciously like a large foot. You'd been hoping to find some interesting insects while you were at it, but you couldn’t seem to spot any the deeper you traversed into the woods. In fact, at some point, you'd stopped seeing _any_  wildlife.

A while later, you were in the middle of taking notes on a fern, that  _giggled_  when you touched it. It was like the opposite of similar-looking ferns that closed when you touched them. From somewhere to your right, you heard a soft rustle and whisper in the woods. You didn’t acknowledge it at first, thinking it might have been the wind, but there was another soft whisper just a moment after. Without looking up from your notes, you called out,

"Sorry, Stanford, what did you say?" you asked. The trees’ leaves brushed together in a light breeze that passed. After a second, your friend answered you from a distance away, just barely overpowering the sound of your scribbling.

"What? Did you say something?" You paused. Stanford had answered you from the opposite direction of where you heard the noise. With a blink, you looked up in his general direction. He was crouching down near a mass of closely entangled tree roots a little ways away after insisting they looked like entwined hands. They looked more like an ordinary jumble of roots to you.

"Uh, no? Did you say something?" He looked over his shoulder to shake his head at you and you stared for a second before shrugging. You glanced at the direction of the original noise. When you saw nothing out of the ordinary, you looked back at your notes, continuing to write. "Well, I think I'm just about finished with the Ticklish Fern. You still poking at the trees, or do you think you're ready to leave them alone now?"

The two of you continued like that for a while, with Stanford showing you interesting plant specimens and you reminding him that he should be certain he knew how to get away from dangerous plants before showing you their very effective trapping mechanisms.

More than once, he had stayed quiet for a concerning amount of time before having an “Aha!” moment and, for example, removing his arm from a giant venus flytrap that had actual teeth. He assured you he could sew up his coat on his own, but you made a mental note to ask if he needed help later on.

Every now and then, you'd hear more whispers. A few times, you'd thought you'd heard breathy twinkles of bells before realizing they were sounds more akin to being giggles. Not only that, but you thought you could hear much more frequent rustling of leaves even without the wind. Stanford didn't seem to notice, too focused on showing you what he could identify in the woods. It almost felt like he was bragging, but he sounded like that so often back in the day that you weren't sure he knew he was doing it.

Eventually, though, your curiosity and wariness got the better of you. Stanford was currently trying to get his foot out from what was essentially a human-sized mousetrap in the sense that the sap he'd purposely stepped into was nearly impossible to step out of.

He had considered having you go back to his lab to bring back some liquid nitrogen and freeze it off, but through some laughter, you convinced him that leaving his sock behind wouldn't be much of a hassle and you could definitely get it back for him later without risk of giving him frostbite. While he tied his boot laces tightly around his bare left foot, the whispers started again, and you spoke up.

"Stanford," you started casually, noting that the whispering had come to an abrupt pause once you did. He hummed to acknowledge you, pulling his laces tight. You glanced around without moving your head much, trying to stay subtle. "Have you noticed anything... weird around us recently?"

"Hm. Yes. The entirety of Gravity Falls is Weird. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," he replied, standing up straight and resting his fists on his hips. You tried not to think about how your thoughts totally blanked when Stanford tilted his head at you, looking like you might say the most interesting thing he's ever heard. You looked at the spot between his eyes to avoid eye contact, ignoring the heat rising to your face at the expression.

"Uh, I mean… It kind of feels like we're…" you trailed off suddenly. You wanted to tell him you thought the two of you were being followed, but usually when being found out, stalkers didn't stick around for very long. You wanted to get to the bottom of whoever was distracting you from having such a fun time with your friend. “Nevermind. I’m sure it’s the wind. That, or the Tickling Fern got me thinking too much.”

Before he could ask you to explain or do something that gave away the fact that you noticed the whispers, you stepped forward and hooked your arm around his. Stanford’s mouth shut at the sudden contact with an audible click, cutting off whatever he had to say. You started leading him away from the area, minding the sticky sap.

"Let's go this way," you said without waiting for an answer. He didn't have any protests as you walked, keeping close contact with your friend even when you brought your journal out to write something down. The longer you were holding onto his arm, the more he got comfortable with it—at least, that was what you would have noticed had you been paying more attention to him.

Instead, you were intent on keeping an ear out for the whispers. They would start up again at seemingly random times and you always noticed when they did, but you couldn’t make out any words. Sometimes, you’d mistake the voices for the rustling of leaves or buzzing of nearby insects, but you still hadn’t caught sight of any bugs. The more you listened, the more you thought those noises sounded... _familiar,_ somehow. Stanford didn’t seem to have the same suspicions as you did, but you didn’t mention it.

After nearly an hour of being followed, you were starting to grow a little confused, which only made you a little more tense. When the whispers didn’t start up again after a while, you tried not to let your mild paranoia show on your face. The two of you ended up in an area more saturated with trees, as well as a scattering of neat plants along the forest floor. There were shrubs and large flowers of different varieties, almost all of them different colors and shapes.

"Now, this vine is very interesting. It naturally curls around one it comes into contact with, see? Very useful for swinging from trees," Stanford was telling you, grinning as he let a long, green vine form around his wrist in little spirals. Your lips curled up in amusement at his pride.

“You speak like you’ve had experience,” you muse. There was a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he just raised his free hand in a teeter totter motion. You laughed lightly and looked down to start a new page in your journal. “That’s pretty cool! How do you get them off?” You set about sketching the vines. They were about an inch in diameter with visible fibers, you thought, which would lend to the strength Stanford vouched for...

“Ah, well, it’s quite easy! You just—Y-You… just…” Stanford seemed to trail off and you glanced up at him before returning to your sketch. Then you did a double-take, snapping your head up to look at him and springing to your feet. “Oh, dear…” It wasn’t there just a second ago, but a yellow cloud of many small particles had appeared in front of Stanford’s face. They were so fine, you could see how his breath moved them around.

You reached out to him, then yanked your hand back. You didn’t know what that stuff was, and you knew you shouldn’t breathe it in and possibly incapacitate yourself. You had to be able to help. Instead, you stepped back, shoving your journal and pencil into your vest. When you looked around, you noticed a few large flowers at Stanford's feet had the same yellow particles settling on their stamens. It was a pollen of some sort.

“Stanford? What is that? Are you okay?” you asked hastily, looking up and watching as the cloud around your friend's face dispersed. Stanford grunted in response, bringing his free hand to his head and swaying. His eyes were shut tight and you could only watch as he nearly fell over, if not for the vine keeping him up by his wrist. You tensed. Was the vine pulling itself up?

When the cloud had settled, you rushed to his side and pulled his arm around you so the vine couldn’t move. Stanford’s swaying had calmed considerably, but his weight was still distributed unevenly and his eyes were still screwed shut. You grabbed his shoulder and shook it a few times to get his attention, repeating his name and wincing at the concern in your voice.

“Are you okay? What’s happening to you?”

“Ugh….”

“Hey, open your eyes!” you said, shifting the man to get him to lean on you for support. “C’mon, bud, we gotta go. How do we get this vine off of you?” Now that you were holding down Stanford’s arm, you could feel your earlier thought had been correct; the vine was trying to pull upwards, bringing your friend’s arm with it. When you glanced up, you couldn’t quite see the sun through the crowded treetops, but you saw a few more Grappling Vines descending. Your gaze snapped to Stanford when he said your name lazily, though his eyes were still closed.

“Stanford, we have to—” Before you could say anything more, countless Grappling Vines suddenly shot down and circled Stanford easily. One harmlessly jabbed at your ribs and you impulsively jumped back in surprise, only to regret it when you realized your friend was now completely trapped. You cried out in alarm when the vines lifted him, the fronts of his boots barely skimming the forest floor, and started to drag him away. “No, no, stop! Give him back!”

You followed after him, reaching out and barely grazing the tight cage of vines before they tugged Stanford right out of your reach. When the vines stretched to their limits, others would descend and curl around him as the taught ones let go, all of them working together to swap your friend between their grasps. When you grew too close, some would poke at your ribs, your face, and your ankles to get you to trip or slow down. Even then, you kept on moving.

The vines brought Stanford to an even tighter area of trees and the same types of plants you saw earlier. The treetops almost completely blocked the sun from above you, and the temperature was drastically different from the rest of the forest. It was completely silent here, which might have been unnerving; you were more focused on the fact that the vines had passed your friend out of sight.

“Hey! Where are you taking him?!” When you had caught up, you almost fell straight into a wide hole in the ground. “What the…” It was a few feet wide and surrounded by large, green leaves you recognized as elephant ears, which were bigger than your head. Hesitantly, you looked over the edge to see more of the leaves, which seemed to grow darker as they went down. From what you could tell, the pit was considerably deep. Between the sheer depth, the large elephant ears surrounding it, and your own aged eyesight, you couldn’t see any sunlight down there.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath your feet, making you startle backwards. Thick roots started growing at an incredible speed, slowly creeping over the edges of the hole. You stumbled somewhat as they moved the ground under you, steadily blocking the entrance to the intimidatingly dark cavern below. You thought of Stanford down there, trapped, confused, and dazed, and you barely gave it a thought before deciding to jump.

Above you, the roots grew closer and closer together, and you were engulfed in darkness.

*

_“How vile, vile! I cannot fathom why this vile creature has been brought to us!”_

_“It is a human man, you see? Do you not remember what they look like?”_

_“Ah, well, it has been quite some time. Though, now I certainly, certainly remember what they_ smell _like.”_

_“Quiet, you two. We know they all smell the same, after all.”_

You groaned quietly, rubbing the area near your temple. The fall had been a little deeper than you thought. Your left ankle ached a little and you’d barely managed to slow your fall by grabbing some roots along the way before you hit the ground. Even then, you’d hit your head somewhere along the fall. Luckily, a thick layer of elephant ears softened your impact, and you didn’t suffer anything more than some aching and a few scratches.

_“What do we do with it? Do the others know?”_

_“We keep it here until told. We cannot do much, after all.”_

_“Same as always, then. How boring, boring!”_

You kept your eyes closed, as you took in the mild pain, but they quickly snapped open when you felt something soft against your cheek. You froze when you saw pure white awfully close to your face, and slowly pushed yourself up, mind racing with the possibility of something dangerous so close to you. A poisonous fungus? A venomous caterpillar? Your heart pounded as you sat up almost fully, bracing yourself for—Oh. When you realized what you were looking at, your panic turned to confusion, then to wonder.

It was a rabbit. It was fairly large, and looked up at you with beady eyes. It shifted a little when you moved, but it seemed just as curious as you were. Your gaze traveled upwards, following brown stalks coming out of its head. They branched upwards, and virtually doubled the white rabbit’s height. They looked like deer antlers. You gasped in surprise and excitement. It was a jackalope! Well, jacka... _deer._ Jackadeer? You started to reach out to touch it, but the animal quickly caught on to your movement and turned, rushing away through a hole in the wall you hadn’t noticed before.

It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust after you watched it run off, but you blinked a few times to take in your surroundings. You were certainly in the bottom of the pit, no doubt. It was kind of cramped, being only several feet wider than the entrance had been. There was no sign of the vines, or Stanford. You looked forward curiously, peering at the hole the jackadeer had hopped through. You looked up to see only a few pinpricks of light peering through the roots above. You weren’t sure they’d open up for you.

_“Do you think we will get to keep it this time?”_

_“We should. The surface kept the last one, after all.”_

Your brows furrowed at the noises coming from the hole in the wall. The sounds were similar to harsh whispers, occasionally harsh enough to sound like buzzing or soft enough to mimic a light breeze. You recognized them as the whispers you’d heard in the forest. Slowly, you crawled towards the hole and kept your breathing soft to hear it.

_“As I said, it has been a long time. They may be greedy, greedy.”_

It sounded like a conversation between three beings. Something about it seemed familiar. With a jolt, you reached into your vest to find the notes you’d brought along with you. You found one journal from your travels in the Foloi Oak Forest in Greece a few years ago, and flipped through the first few pages to find an entry you’d written:

**Foloi Forest’s more elegant creatures, including mischievous fairies and plotting nymphs, speak in a language similar to the natural sounds of the forest.**

**After months befriending many and be-flirting few, they have taught me their exotic language to the point of fluency! (Dv zhoo dv d ihz sdvwlphv wkdw duh, vxusulvlqjob, qrw vr harwlf.) I have decided to dub this language “Nymph-Speak.”**

**Note: Come up with a better name. I told this to As and they laughed at me. I deserve that.**

These beings were nymphs, then, or something similar. You skimmed the rest of the paragraph before finding the short translation key to jog your memory, then shut your eyes. The words came slow at first, but the more you half-murmured, half-mouthed to yourself, the more you could remember. You opened your eyes to glance over the few translations again.

 _“Even if they were, there will be more to come. It is,”_ you didn’t recognize this word and briefly glanced over your notes, _“after all.”_ They must have meant summer. You scribbled on the page, noting the difference. It seems certain pronunciations were a bit sharper in this part of the woods. You noted this language’s different inflections and altered pronunciations. You expected as much, seeing as you were in a completely different continent, but the change was easy enough to recognize.

_“Human men are so stupid in summer, summer.”_

_“Are human men not stupid no matter the season?”_

Your Nymph-Speak was a little rusty, but it would come back to you as you spoke. You'd spent a while in Greece, aftre all, You tucked away your notebook and crawled through the hole in the wall. It was more of a short tunnel, about three feet in length, and it was tall enough that you had plenty of room to move when you were on your hands and knees. A pale blue illuminated the area in front of you, and you hesitated for only a moment before peeking out. You had to bring the back of your hand to your mouth to stop your gasp.

The short tunnel had opened up to a large space, a room thrice as big as your bedroom in the manor. It was absolutely teeming with life, including a few jackadeer that retreated behind some plants when you’d entered and a few interesting bugs buzzing around near the dirt floor. The pale blue glow lit up the entire space, creeping up the textured dirt walls that rounded into a tall, dome-like ceiling. It was around two stories tall, and you could see tree roots at the top, as if for structural support.

The light itself came from glowing mushrooms all around the area, some even sprouting from the walls. They shone onto large, white leaves with green veins and edges, which seemed to reflect the light and make the cavern even brighter than it would have been. It was much like having many dim lamps in an otherwise pitch-black room. You thought you could hear rushing water nearby, but there wasn't any in sight.

The domed cavern branched out into a few paths, and you quickly took your map out. If you could remember correctly, the vines had led you on a chase further into the northeast forest, so you would be about… You lightly marked an area of your map and quickly drew the entrance and cavern, taking into account its size. You paused in your scribbling to listen closely, trying not to get distracted by the few jackadeer starting to hop into sight when you hadn’t moved in a minute.

_“Oh, it is breathing, breathing! Order the vines to kill it, kill it!”_

_“Can we, Neg? Can we kill it already?”_

_“No, Li. Leader Gold will wish to see it, after all.”_

You crept down the leftmost tunnel near its wall, careful not to step on any glowing mushrooms. You wondered how many others might have seen this place and desperately wanted to document everything here, but you had to save your best friend first. Right now, Stanford’s safety took priority. You noticed a lightning bug idly buzzing past you and tried not ot stare at the soft, blue light it emitted.

_“Will they bother to let us kill it?”_

_“I'm sure they will, will!”_

The voices were getting louder now, and you paused at the end of the tunnel. It seemed to open up to another large, domed room, just as big as the first. Carefully, you peeked around the corner, then quickly moved back. There! He was there! Stanford was still wrapped up to the point of immobility in the vines, his head tilted down in a way that suggested he had lost consciousness. He was held up against a wall a few feet off the ground, and his fluffy hair seemed a bit disheveled by the earlier chase.

You managed another glimpse. Surrounding your friend were three figures, dark enough for you to mistake as silhouettes before you realized they were just unnaturally-colored. You had never seen these people in your life, though you quickly remembered they weren’t people at all.

The tallest and broadest nymph was around six feet tall, with skin the color of deep wine. Their black hair was pulled back, only it wasn't actual hair. Instead, it looked like black leaves and stems were brought into a ponytail, then puffed out in a stunning bunch of bottlebrush with small, white flowers all along each stalk. You couldn’t see their face very well, but lips the same white shade as the flowers were pressed into a hard line. They had no separate whites or pupils to their eyes, same as the nymphs you knew in Greece, and only had creamy-white eyes staring straight ahead.

 _“Maybe. We deserve it, after all,”_ that nymph said. Their voice was gruff and low, though mostly indifferent.

 _“We do? Are you sure, Neg?”_ the next one asked, their voice a little higher in tone but having an especially sharp edge to it. It was like they were just waiting for the opportunity to fight.

This nymph was a bit shorter, and they were only a little lighter in color. You assumed this one was named Li. Instead of a ponytail, Li’s hair was completely made of the white bottlebrush and hung down to their shoulders. Even without pupils, you could tell this being was scanning the room cautiously. They had a broad frame as well, but if this one was muscular, the tallest could probably rip you in half with just a glower. You glanced at the tallest again, appraising them for a second before moving on.

 _“Of course, of course! Oh, it will be so much fun, fun!”_ the last nymph squealed, nodding over and over. The others huffed and tilted their head in agreement, respectfully, and you recognized the manner of speaking. This one must be Gee, then, meaning the tallest was named Neg.

Gee was significantly smaller than their counterparts and a good several inches shorter than yourself. Their overall tone was more emerald green than the others, with only a little dark purple creeping into their hair. It was made out of serrated foliage, sticking up in all directions and layered in a sort of messy pixie-cut aside from two bottlebrush stalks. The bottlebrush was pointed straight down where their ears would be, like long earrings. Rather than stand straight and face one way like the other two, Gee rocked back and forth on their heels and occasionally gave a glance to the man behind them.

A low groan caught your attention, and your breath hitched. Stanford was waking up. You nearly jumped out from your cover right then and there, but forced yourself to stay put. You were no good to him if you put yourself in danger without coming up with a plan to help, first. You carefully slunk down to a kneel so you’d be less likely to be seen as you peeked out of the tunnel again.

“Ugh, what—Oh dear,” he said, alarm taking over his voice in less than a second. Even if you weren’t staring straight at him, you would have known his eyes would go wide and he would puff up his chest in that odd defense mechanism he has. “Who’s there? Who are you?”

 _“Vile, vile! Kill it!”_ Gee recoiled from him the same way one would curl away from a garbage bin, but stood their ground like the others even though they looked like a stepstool compared to the other two. The tallest, Neg, didn’t even twitch.

 _“Leave it be for now. We will get our chance to kill it soon enough, after all,”_ Neg spoke calmly, though their gravelly voice atop their unchanging expression and bulky figure made them sound awfully intimidating.

“What in the world?” Stanford gaped, which was an appropriate response to the unique hisses and buzzes of Nymph-Speak. Then you watched as he started to take in his surroundings with a growing sense of awe, which was not an appropriate response to being tied up in an unfamiliar area. “Where am I?”

 _“Is it not awful how they always ask questions?”_ Li, the medium-sized nymph, sounded a little unnerved. Their face mostly mostly conveyed annoyance. _“May we cover its mouth to keep it from asking questions? Will you do it, Gee?”_

To your horror, the shortest nymph giggled gleefully as they clapped twice. The vines, which you realized had to be sentient, curled up to Stanford’s head. He protested, shaking his head vigorously, but the vines ultimately wrapped around his jaw and gagged his mouth. You followed to where they lead, noticing they seemed to grow from the tree roots at the domed ceiling.

 _“That is much better, better!”_ The short one was grinning as they looked over their shoulder at Stanford, but frowned when he started to make muffled cries of indignation. Li rolled their eyes beside them. _“Ah. Even without words, it still manages to be annoying, annoying.”_

You had to get their attention somehow, then rush over to save your friend. You looked around for something that might help you get the guards to leave their post. At the very least, get Li to stop looking around the place. If you could get them to go somewhere else, or look the other way…

_“Neg, when do you think they will arrive?”_

_“Soon, Li. There is not much else they need attend, after all.”_

There was a big rock near the edge of the tunnel wall. You grabbed it quickly, testing the heft of it on your hand. Once you figured the guards weren’t looking, you scoped out the tunnels branching out of their room. There were a few more rocks in sight of the nearest tunnel to yours. Hopefully your swing was still good.

 _“I am incredibly bored, bored,”_ Gee whined, bouncing a little and causing the leaves on their head to rustle. You reared your hand back, pursing your lips. Neg gave a noncommittal grunt in response. You swung.

The rock flew across the room, though you were off to the side enough that the guards didn’t see where it had come from. Gee made a shriek of surprise at the sudden clatter of the stones as they knocked against one another, their white bottlebrush earrings swaying with their movement. The short nymph spun to hide behind Li, who didn’t seem to appreciate it.

 _“Where did that come from? Who is there?”_ Li shouted, holding out their hand. To your amazement, a large spear seemed to grow right in their grip. It resembled a thin, six foot thorn. You pressed your back to the dirt tunnel, holding your breath. There was silence for a few moments, before Li spoke up again. _“Shall I look?”_

 _“Please do. We would not want any unwelcome visitors, after all.”_ You heard footsteps and soon saw Li approaching the tunnel. When you peeked again, Gee was warily looking out from behind Neg’s broad form. Li was near the entrance of the tunnel, holding the pointed end of their spear in front of them. You looked at Stanford, your heart jumping in surprise a little when the two of you made eye contact.

Quickly, you brought your index finger to your lips and glanced at the guards. He nodded to the best of his ability, but looked simultaneously relieved and concerned. Your friend pointedly looked at the two nymphs near him, then to you, trailing from your tunnel, then moving upwards until his gaze was set straight above him. You had to shuffled out from your cover a bit more to see what he was looking at.

Just a few feet from where you crouched, a wall of vines started. They led up the domed walls, where they started to mingle with tree roots that grew progressively thicker. You followed the roots to the vines’ bases, noting they were directly above where the guards stood. Those vines were the ones to lead to Stanford. You glanced at your friend, who was now looking at you, and nodded at him before you ducked back to cover.

The other two nymphs were looking at Li, who was still looking around where the rock had gone. If you hurried, you could probably rush over to the vine wall and start climbing up. Then, once you were above Stanford, you’d have the chance to cut the vines, get the jump on the guards, and escape. Nymphs were quick, though, and you weren’t sure you could outrun them. You didn’t feel too good about hurting them, either, but you figured you’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

While Neg and Gee were watching their companion, you rushed out of your tunnel and made a beeline to the vines, keeping your crouch. You paused for a second to reach into your right boot, where you kept a small switchblade. It would probably be enough to cut the vines and set your friend free. When the nymphs didn’t seem to notice you, you grabbed hold of the thickest vines you could see and planted your feet in the dirt to start your ascent.

 _“I hope it is nothing, nothing,”_ Gee said, slowly starting to come out from behind the tallest guard. Li swept the entrance of the tunnel, keeping their spear raised. You scrambled up the vines with upper body strength you really needed to work on, until you were at the tree roots. _“If it was nothing, we should return to our positions, positions.”_

You managed to slip your legs between a particularly thick roots and the dirt ceiling and hung upside-down to give your arms a break. Stanford was glancing up at you, trying not to seem too obvious, but the nymphs didn’t look at him anyway. With a swift movement, you took the switchblade from your boot and flicked it open. You brought it to the vines and—

A spear whizzed past your head and landed in the dirt ceiling inches from your legs. A muffled shout came from Stanford below, and you happened to match it with your own scream as a vine whipped up to curl around the tree root you hung on. It pulled harshly, bending the root and forcing your legs over it.

Dirt flew onto your face as you fell, barely managing to flail before you landed on the ground, and you were a little irritated at falling a great distance twice in the last quarter hour. You had the wind knocked out of you at the impact, and wheezed slightly as you hit the ground.

Only, the ground didn’t cradle you beneath your legs and back. You blinked your eyes open, trying to catch your breath, and you screamed again when you found yourself looking into the creamy white eyes of the burliest nymph in the room.

 _“What is she doing here? When did she get here?”_ Li asked, another spear growing in their grip. Now far too close to them, you could see their white lips parted to reveal sharp teeth whenever they spoke. They twirled their spear around once before pointing the sharp end of it at your throat, the bottlebrush hair shifting like normal hair would. You decided to keep your mouth shut in favor of avoiding annoying them.

 _“Oh my, a pretty human woman, woman!”_ Gee squealed, hopping excitedly and gushing over you. You were strangely flattered. _“Can we keep her, keep her?”_

 _“No. We do not know of her intentions, after all,”_ Neg said, seemingly unfazed by having you in their arms. You realized one of their hands curled over your ribs as they carried you, their grip surprisingly careful. You pretended your heart didn’t skip a beat.

 _“Then shall we speak to her in human common to find out?”_ Li asked, their eyes narrowed at you. Your brain suddenly booted up again and you jolted slightly as your mind raced. Your movements didn’t affect Neg in the slightest. They were like a brick wall, except you didn’t usually appreciate the firm stature of brick walls.

“Uh, _no need!”_ The two shorter nymphs had proper expressions of surprise. Neg blinked slowly, which you assumed was the equivalent. _“I can speak your language. I am out of practice, however.”_

 _“Oh? How convenient, is it not?”_ Li straightened themselves again, jabbing their oversized thorn a bit closer to you. You tried to scramble back, but your legs just kind of flailed a little. _“Why are you here, human?”_

 _“For my friend!”_ you said quickly, trying to lean away from the dangerous object and only succeeding in making Li follow you with the sharp point. _“I came for my friend, w-we will go home! Just, please let us go!”_

 _“The cute woman came for her friend, friend,”_ Gee repeated, perking up. They reached over with a dainty hand and placed a finger next to Li’s spear. Gently, they moved it away from you. You sighed in relief, relaxing a little. _“Human, tell us who your friend is. We will help you, help you.”_

 _“The man, just over there,”_ you said without thinking. Li’s glare deepened and Gee’s white lips made a little “O” shape. The short nymph placed their finger on the spear again and moved it back to point at your neck. _“No, no, wait! He is very, very, close to me, and I cannot go home without him. Please let him go!”_

 _“Why should we?”_ To your disappointment, Li seemed pleased with having their weapon pointed at you again. To your surprise, Neg shifted you to one arm and pushed away the spear.

 _“Be calm, Li,”_ they replied in an earthquake of a voice. Each syllable made their chest rumble, and holding you in one arm made you very aware of the large bicep providing you with excellent lumbar support. You were basically cradled in the crook of their elbow. It was kind of romantic. How did nymphs get muscles? _“We have rules, after all.”_

 _“Oh, no fun.”_ Gee pouted, which was very _un_ romantic. Still, Neg’s words struck relief into your chest. The nymphs’ rules you’d learned about in Greece seemed to bear the same as the ones here, too. _“I forgot about the rules, rules.”_

 _“Ah, the rules? A shame, is it not?”_ Li seemed just as disappointed in not getting to jab a thorn into places you needed to stay intact to live, but they pointed their weapon outwards. It shrunk even quicker than their first thorn had grown. They held their palm up to the dirt ceiling and your gaze followed to see that spear disappear in the same fashion.

 _“Surely, you know our rules, human,”_ Neg said, drawing your attention to them again. The way their eyes and lips contrasted with the rest of their form was lovely. While you stared at their mouth, the corner of their lips raised a little and you realized they knew you were staring. Quickly, you turned your head away to stare at their shoulder.  _“You know our language, after all.”_

Actually, looking at them up close without the distraction of a threat towards your life gave you room to notice something; Neg wore no actual articles of clothing, nor did the two others. They didn't even have skin. Their bodies were made of dark leaves closely compacted together to act as a solid mass in a vaguely-human form, and it wasn’t like nymphs usually had primary _or_ secondary sex characteristics. They were plants. You wondered why men decided to sexualize plants.

The nymphs in Foloi had skin, plus they wore clothing: Greek chitons and ivy headdresses and all. You had always wondered why, but now you realized they were probably just being dramatic. Even then, they didn’t have any “private parts” until they wanted to form themselves to have them.

Speaking of dramatic… You tried to sit up a bit more to peek over Neg’s broad shoulder, looking at Stanford. He seemed very confused and concerned, but you smiled at him and hoped your uncertainty didn’t show through. His gaze softened at you and you gave him a thumbs up.

 _“I do,”_ you replied to the nymph, leaning back and asking to be placed down. Neg complied, setting you on the ground carefully, and you tried to ignore your flush when their hand lingered on your back for an extra second. _“And I will gladly follow them. Any human man captured by, um… nature spirits—He may be spared if he is a companion to a human woman, correct?"_

 _"And so you claim to be its human companion?"_ Li interjected, obviously unimpressed. A blank look from Neg had them pointedly look away with a huff. The tallest nymph looked back at you, nodding patiently, and you continued,

 _"Yes, in fact. Please, spirits, release him. We will not encroach on your territory again."_ You briefly dusted off your pants before standing up straight. The top of your head only reached Neg's collarbone.

 _"Human,"_ Neg said firmly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, _"we accept your claim. However, you must wait for the ultimate decision by West of North's second."_ That was new.

 _"Second?_ Second-in-command? _Who would that be?"_ As if on cue, you heard a pair of light footsteps approaching from behind you. Li and Gee quickly zipped to their positions and stood tall, folding their arms behind their backs. Neg didn't move from their spot in front of you, but adopted the same pose just as fast.

"That would be me, darling," a low voice said. You whipped around to see another nymph, and you had to tilt your head up somewhat to look at their face even though they were still approaching. Neg was large in all senses of the word, but this nymph was utterly ethereal.

They were just under eight feet tall, and they were made of green leaves with a considerable amount of eye-catching gold flecks on each one. Their hair branched out in all directions but grew to equal length all around, vaguely reminding you of a lovely gold leaf afro.

“W-Who are you?” you stammered, uneased by the sudden appearance. You glanced over your shoulder to the guards, who had their heads raised high and were diligently staring straight ahead. When you looked back at the new nymph, you were met with gold-spattered leaves inches from your face. Slowly, you craned your neck until you could see into their purely golden eyes.

“In your common, I would be called Mr. Goldstrike,” they started, their voice the tone of a refreshing breeze on a warm summer’s day. As if to relax your neck, they leaned down, coming a bit closer to you. Behind you, the guards spoke in unison.

 _“Welcome, Leader Gold.”_ Their three loud voices saturated the entire room with mighty authority, sending shivers down your spine. “Leader Gold” stared at you for a few more seconds, as if reading you somehow, before standing at their full height and stepping away. Right before your eyes, their form’s leaves rustled and started changing from the bottom-up.

The heels of their feet raised, becoming wrapped in intricate gold patterns that wove together to become five-inch golden heels. It looked like the countless number of leaves making up their form connected and overlapped, melding into one another to create a texture similar to human skin at a steady pace. At the same time, above the nymph’s bust, leaves shot out and downwards in an instant. They resembled a shimmering, golden dress that clung to the new solid shape of their body and flared out at the knees in a train to rest delicately on the ground.

The nymph held their arms up slightly to form the skin there, creating long fingers and a woven gold ring around each one. Their leaves formed their neck, then their face, and suddenly the two golden eyes became human-like with a single blink. The only thing to stay the same was their hair, adding considerably to their height and framing their face in a halo of green and gold leaves.

With a soft, contented sigh, the nymph’s transformation was complete. They relaxed, letting their arms fall to their sides and shifting their weight a little. You watched, breathless, as they rolled their head around once to stretch their newly-formed neck and then peered down at you with shining gold irises.

“But _you_ may call me Strike,” the nymph stated smoothly, parting their golden lips to reveal a stunning, yet deadly smile. You tensed up under their piercing gaze, which felt just as intense as it had without the pupils. “And it seems I have arrived just in time to invite you to dinner. How do you feel about your _friend_ being the main course?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my first chapter title for this was "Nonbinary Nymphs" but I wanted it to be a surprise! also, Neg, Li, Gee, and Strike use they/them pronouns. "Mr. Goldstrike" is only the name of the plant Strike is based off of. Strike is a POC in their human form. you don't need a gender to be hot!
> 
> if you catch any misgendering or you happen to be an agender/nonbinary person yourself who wants to point something out for me to remove/add, please let me know!
> 
> also, this is the first chapter my cool beta Eve helped me with! it was originally meant to be one chapter, but I got carried away thirsting over two (2) plants
> 
> we hope you had fun reading! thanks a bunch, and see you next week!


	6. Mushroom Dealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, love doesn't always save the day. It does come in handy, though, and so do vegetables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter's title took all of my creative juices so this title is a little lame
> 
> but i sure hope this chapter isn't! enjoy!
> 
> (hey, do read the end notes for a heads up about next week! it's kind of long, but overall i probably won't be able to post anything next weekend. please read down there if you want a special chapter to make up for it!)

“Take a seat, darling.” Strike’s voice left no room for argument, and they gestured behind you. When you turned to look, the dirt shifted near where Stanford was held against the wall. Tree roots started to grow out of the soil, twisting and curving around each other to build a solid base. Leaves and twigs sprouted out in some places, and in just a few seconds, there were two large chairs facing each other with Stanford to the side of them.

You glanced back at Strike before you realized they expected you to move. You quickly nodded to them and weaved through the three guards, walking over slowly so as to not come off as overly excited to be near your friend. The seats were identical, so you chose the one nearest to him. The guards parted to let Strike pass them, as opposed to how you awkwardly shuffled around them. You stayed standing near your chair until Strike slowly stepped to theirs and sat down in it with the grace of a butterfly. You followed suit.

Some silence passed as you eyed the nymph up and down. Even sitting a good several feet away from you, you had to look up at them. Their smile had relaxed a little, and they leaned back in their chair to cross their legs, the dress shimmering in the light of the mushrooms.

“May I be graced with your name?” Strike asked finally. You shifted in your seat a little, getting more comfortable, and introduced yourself with a voice that was too steady for the way you felt at the moment. They repeated it, and you couldn’t help but watch the way their lips formed the sounds before remembering this had to be a serious talk.

In Greece, the nymphs told you their culture’s general rules when it came to explorers in their forests. To be frank, nymphs weren't herbivores. They often relied on older creatures of the forest or human wanderers for meat. If the wanderer was a man, “it” would be stalked, captured, killed, and shared among a large group of nymphs. If they were a woman, she would be unbothered unless she specifically wished to meet the nymphs. If there were men and women together, sustenance took priority. The lead nymph of that area would always be in attendance if there was a human in the forest, either to determine what group the man’s body should feed or greet the woman who wished to meet them.

In the rare case a woman were to come to a man’s rescue, she would have to prove their relationship was significant or leave the forest without him. She would not have any way of incriminating the nymphs with her knowledge of their intentions. In other words, you had to prove Stanford was worth keeping or the nymphs would wipe your memories of his capture altogether and let you leave the forest without remembering they even existed. No biggie.

“Strike, I came to free my friend,” you stated, starting to fidget under the nymph’s stare. When you realized this, you quickly folded your hands in your lap. You glanced at Stanford, who glanced between you and the nymph with a bewildered expression. A little embarrassment crept up the back of your neck and you suddenly didn’t want him to understand what you were saying. _“He is very important to me. We are incredibly close.”_

You looked back at Strike. They raised a gold brow at you, amused. Luckily, they seemed to understand what you wanted and replied in their own language. They never gave Stanford a glance, which bothered you only a little bit.

 _“Close enough for you to avoid including it in our conversation?”_ You flushed and unclasped your hands to rub the back of your neck. Strike schooled their expression back to its elegance and thoughtfulness. _“How long have you known this human man?”_

 _“Decades,_ Strike. _We have grown apart at some point, but I was delighted to meet him again just a few days past,”_ you said honestly, pointedly ignoring Stanford’s questioning gaze. It wasn’t like he could say his peace even if the two of you were still speaking English.

_“And how much does it mean to you? Its safety?”_

_“It means the world to me. He would reciprocate if our positions were switched.”_

This continued for a few minutes. Strike, with their shimmering gold dress and increasingly analytical stare, asking question after question to determine if Stanford’s worth to you trumped their need for nutrients. It would be difficult, considering you thought you recalled the guards speaking about how long it had been since a man had been captured.

 _“How close are you two him?”_ they asked finally. You straightened to convey as much confidence as you could as you answered with absolute certainty.

 _“He is my closest and most dearest friend,”_ you stated, your voice refusing any hesitation or doubt. _“I would cease to function if I lost him, especially after we just reconnected.”_

 _“Is that so?”_ You nodded seriously, keeping your face straight. Strike leaned forward a little to stare at you, glancing over every detail of your expression to find any waver in your thoughts. When they found none, they leaned back. _“I believe you.”_

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That was it! You’d answered every question with complete truth and certainty, and you had proven Stanford’s life to be valuable to you. You would only have to promise to keep him away from this part of the forest, and then the two of you could—”Kill the man.”

What?

“Woah, woah, woah, what?!” You shot up to your feet, turning to face the turning guards. Stanford made a noise of surprise behind you and you moved to stand between him and the nymphs with your hands raised placatingly. Strike propped an elbow on the armrest of their chair and rested their chin on their hand. “That isn’t part of the rules!”

“Then I assume you haven’t been told all the rules, darling,” Strike said, undeterred by your exclamation. Several feet in front of you, Neg made fists at their sides and large, deadly thorns grew all around them. Li held out one hand to grow a spear that had a thick handle at the bottom to behave as a long sword. Gee held their hands up beside them and tiny thorns shot from where their fingertips would be, flying up at the speed of a bullet.

“I learned the rules in Foloi Forest and haven’t heard _anything_ about whatever this is! This can’t be fair!” you defended, stepping forward and trying to think of just how you could possibly fight against three nymphs and their leader, who has proven they can manipulate roots and probably other plants at will. Even in such a casual pose, Strike managed to make themselves a very clear threat.

“Foloi Forest, in Hellas? The only things those nymphs fret over is how many breathtaking maidens they can catch the interest of. Of course you learned from them.” You blinked, looking at Strike incredulously.

“Are you flirting with me just as your guards are about to kill my best friend?!” you asked indignantly. Strike just grinned at you coyly. You were simultaneously flabbergasted and flustered. “No, no, hold on! Wait!” Slowly, almost lazily, Strike waved the hand they weren’t leaning on and the guards paused. You exhaled, though you didn’t dare move out of your defensive stance.

“Why are you doing this? I thought that was all I needed to prove.” Strike glanced at the guards, as if thinking for a moment. Their gaze calmly swept to you again, and suddenly their golden irises looked darker.

“You are correct, for the most part. However, the rules also state that any nymph leader may declare the companionship null if their people has been without meat in a year’s time. And, well,” Strike sighed softly, “it has been longer than a year. We haven’t had any sort of fresh meat in quite a while. The animals in the tunnels are ancient, and the ones on the surface have stopped exploring this far into the woods.”

You weren’t sure how long nymphs could go without meat in their diet, but it must have been shorter than what was comfortable judging by the stress flickering over Strike’s expression. Still, your friend was too important to you to even consider leaving him behind or out of sight for another second. As if to reassure yourself, you glanced over your shoulder at Ford for just a moment.

“... Strike, I...  _have_ _affection for this man. Please, let him return home with me to see his family again. I will give you anything you want in return, but I cannot leave this place sacrificing anyone’s life,”_ you said, desperately hoping for it to be enough. You didn’t have sufficient means of escape, nor did you have any way to protect yourself besides your light blaster and small switchblade.

Strike looked at you with an unreadable expression, uncrossing their legs only to cross them again the opposite way. The guards watched you two, still armed. Gee started to fidget a little in impatience, shifting their weight from side to side.

 _“What kind of affection?”_ the leader asked after a few moments of silence. You glanced away, hesitating, but Strike leaned forward a little and called your name to catch your attention. _“Please, enlighten me.”_

 _“I…”_ You couldn’t bring yourself to look Strike in the eye, and heat started crawling into your face. _“For a while now, I have… Well… He doesn’t know this. You must not tell him.”_ Strike nodded, looking amused again, and you continued.

*

“Y’know, hun, I been meanin’ to ask you,” Fiddleford started from above you. You made a noncommittal noise from your dorm room floor, not looking up from your chemistry textbook. You heard your friend shift from where he sat on your bed. “When'd you and Stanford start neckin’?”

It took a moment for the words to register in your head, but you quickly paused in your reading. Unsurely, you rolled to prop yourself onto your side and curiously looked up at your friend.

“When did me and Stanford start what now?” Your friend didn’t look at you, and instead he just casually flipped the page of his book.

“Neckin’. Playin’ backseat bingo,” he listed off, as if he thought you could understand anything he was saying. You sat up, huffing out a breath and stretching your arms over your head. “Canoodlin’. Goin’ steady. Or quick, who's to judge?”

Okay, you understood _that._ A wheezing noise escaped you rather than your soft sigh and you froze. You looked up at Fiddleford again, red-faced and ready to clear the misunderstanding, until you saw the corner of his lips hike up just as he lifted his book to cover his face.

“You jerk! Shut up, what are you even talking about?” you shouted suddenly, grabbing the throw pillow you’d dragged onto the floor earlier and throwing it at your friend. He laughed at it hit the side of his face harmlessly and adjusted his skewered glasses. It wasn’t satisfying.

“So you _are_ sweet on him! Darlin’, yer too easy to read! Where’s my bookmark?” He started looking through the folds of your messy bedsheets, a stupidly smug grin on his face. You looked around as well, if only to hide the flush on your face.

“I never understand a word that comes out of your big mouth, McGucket. Quit it.” His bookmark was on the ground at the end of your bed, and you laid back down to grab it. You held it up to him. “I’m trying to study.”

“Take a break,” he suggested cheerily, placing the bookmark between yellowed pages and closing the book with a soft sound.

“For a man at the top of his most difficult course, you sure like to take breaks.” He barely let you finish your sentence.

“So,” the guy started, and you wanted to slap that goofy smile right off his face, “Stanford Pines.”

For some ungodly reason, just the suggestiveness in his tone was enough to make you flush. You reached over the bed to grab the pillow and threw it at his face again, which only served to make his smile wider.

“Shut up!”

“You like Stanford Pines!”

“Oh my god, shut _up!”_

“When'd that happen? ‘ave you talked to the fella recently?”

“Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, I will end you!” you threatened loudly. Luckily, it was early afternoon, the time of day when most students would be long gone for their eleven o’clock courses and wouldn’t be around to complain about your yelling.

“Not 'fore you tell me 'bout yer lil’ crush,” he sang, laughing when you slapped both of your hands over your blushing face. Fiddleford said your name in an annoying little sing-song. “I’m very keen on makin’ fun ‘til you fess up. Just so you know.”

“Oh my—I like him!” you finally blurted out, your voice muffled by your hands. Begrudgingly, you moved them to rest on either side of your face. “I like him a lot, okay? There, I said it, now shut up. Don’t look at me like that! Stop!”

Half an hour later, Fiddleford had gotten you to loosen up a little. Now, the two of you were just hanging out in your room together as you rambled about your feelings to the overeager engineering major. You thought it would have become annoying by now, but Fiddleford had his legs criss-crossed and the throw pillow in his lap as he listened intently. He seemed really comfortable, and made suitable “aw” and “ooh” noises at certain points in your gushing.

You only known each other for several weeks, but it felt like he had wormed his way into being your closest friend in the sense that Stanford couldn’t really connect to you with. You wished your tutor would open up with you a bit more about his personal feelings rather than how he felt towards all his different Quantum Mechanics textbooks, but you’d take what you could get. You told Fiddleford as such.

“I just feel like, I dunno, like, he’s so closed-off from everyone. And I get that! Obviously, I respect his space and I don’t care _that_ much, I just like hearing him talk—” Fiddleford made an encouraging noise at that, “—thank you, but, y’know. He’s so mysterious!

“And that’s another thing about him, right, he’s got so much history we don’t know, and so whenever he shares something about himself it’s so easy to latch onto it. Did you know his favorite candy is jellybeans? We were friends for two weeks before I learned he even liked jellybeans.”

“You bring a big ol' bag of jellybeans for him e'ry other week,” Fiddleford realized with enthusiasm. You nodded, throwing your arms up.

“I do! I should really be saving my money!”

“Sure, but please don’t stop buyin’ me those Lil’ Debbie cookies. I live offa them now.”

“Okay, but you owe me a hug for each one. Also, please eat lettuce or something.” You jumped around workplaces a lot, ever since your parents had stopped contacting you once you'd started attending Backupsmore. You were a known employee at the gas station off-campus, the coffee chain on campus, a few department stores a long drive away, a few smaller markets walking distance from the university, and more.

For several months now, you'd been working at a department store like all the rest after managing to nab some references from similar places. The wage was enough to get you decent meals if used sparingly and you saved up the rest for your future and whatever rainy days might come. You liked getting your friends snacks, though, and they even shared with you. It was nice.

"Oh, he's so cute, Fidds. His dumb, goofy hair and his stupid, idiot eyes. And his voice is so deep, but he still somehow makes it so nerdy," you sighed dreamily. Fiddleford snickered at you and you glared at him playfully. "Hush, you."

"So when're you plannin' on lockin' lips, hm?" You rolled your eyes, flopping back so you were laying on the bed. "I ain't jokin'! Fella's got heart eyes whenever you bounce into the room."

"I don't bounce," you huffed.

"Yes, ya do. Ya walk like a little, darlin' duckling," Fiddleford cooed.

"Oh, whatever. I can't tell him I like him, he'll, like, totally destroy me with nerd words for 'rejection'. That, or turn all red and melt into himself until I leave." The thought made your stomach turn. You would hate to make your friend uncomfortable around you, or more awkward than usual. "We're just friends, Fidds."

"If you lot're just pals, yer also complete morons." You looked up at him incredulously, but Fiddleford just raised a brow at you. "The man does whatever ya tell him to, darlin'. Tell 'im to jump, he asks how high—hell, then he jumps higher. The showoff."

"You're joking. I can barely get him to look at me." You looked away from him to stare up at the popcorn ceiling.

"And when he does?" Fiddleford asked, nudging you with his knee. You thought for a second, pursing your lips. "He ain't able to tear his eyes away."

"Oh, but I just—He's so cute. He's so cute, but he's also  _so_  dumb, and I have a major crush on him and I don't know what to do about it!"

"Do about what?" Stanford asked, opening the door to your dorm room. You shrieked at the sudden entrance and jumped up, managing to bounce off the bed and land harshly on the floor. At the same time, Fiddleford reared his arm back and threw the pillow at the door full force, just as alarmed as you were.

"Get out get out get out!" you yelled, practically launching yourself across the small room to slam the door shut. Fiddleford brought a hand to his heart, breathing deeply like he'd just experienced a heart attack. He had been more surprised by your screaming than anything else.

Luckily, you didn't hit Stanford with the door, but he was extremely startled and entirely confused. You and Fiffleford gathered your bearings before letting him back in. You tried very hard to act nonchalant when Stanford asked what you two had been discussing to make you so flustered, but your stammering only succeeded in making Fiddleford laugh.

The rest of the day, Fiddleford kept nudging you over to sit closer to your crush. You kept socking him in the shoulder, but you couldn't wipe the grin off your face.

*

 _"Interesting,"_ Strike said once you'd finished. It was really weird to talk about how much you liked a person when they couldn't understand you. Also when they were tied up behind you and their lives were actively being threatened. _"And you still have feelings for it?"_

 _"Yes,"_ you confirmed for the nth time. You were still standing in front of Stanford even though the guards had been told to stand down a few minutes into your talking. They faced away from you again, hands behind their backs. _"I hope you understand."_

Strike stared at you for a few moments with piercing golden eyes, though you tried to stay tall. They hummed in thought, then turned their head slightly to look at your friend for the first time. You glanced at him as well. There was some drool around the vine covering his mouth and he looked kind of bored at this point.

"Very well," the nymph said finally, drawing your attention back to them. Strike sat up straight, even though they'd maintained perfect posture the whole time you spoke. They said your name seriously. "We will let him go. But," they interrupted when you opened your mouth to speak, "I recall you saying you would give us anything in return."

"Y-Yes, I did say that!" you perked up, clasping your hands in front of you. "What do you need?"

"That is the problem, darling. I am afraid you cannot give us what we need." For the record, Strike did manage to look sympathetic. They leaned back into their chair. "Our people, as of now, are getting quite weak. That is why myself and my Negligee guard are the only nature spirits you see now. The tunnels used to thrive." They raised their arms to gesture at the empty room.

"We need meat to survive. To take your companion away from us would be… in no one's favor." They looked at you meaningfully, some pity in their eyes, and you were reminded of how dangerous nymphs were. There were four of them against you and Stanford, and even though you had your concentrated light gun, you didn't want to vaporize them. Even if you did, and the other nymphs awoke to fight against you, your gun might run out of juice.

Your only other weapon was your switchblade, which would probably be useless against their forms. The most you'd actually used it for in the last week was to cut a mushroom, which was awfully small, and… and… You gasped and quickly reached into your vest. Strike sat up a bit straighter, narrowing their golden eyes at you in warning, but you only pulled out the small plastic baggie with the carnivorous mushroom you'd found earlier.

"W-What about this?" you asked, holding it up for Strike to see. Their eyes widened at the sight of it, but you didn't quote notice. "It's a—"

"The mushroom to replace meat," they breathed, standing up and taking a step towards you. You stepped back as well, surprised, but Strike paused to raise their hands placatingly. You let them approach slowly, and held up the mushroom for them as they bent down to see. Strike was transfixed by it. "Where did you find this? Was there any more?"

"Uh, yeah. Loads of them, all in big patches around the forest a mile or two from here." The nymph looked stunned, and held out their hands.

"May I?" You hesitated for a moment, but handed the baggie over to them. Strike looked it over, gently prodding the mushroom through the thin plastic. They stood up straight suddenly, startling you, and you instinctively stumbled back. They didn't seem surprised, and only turned around the wave of their hand. The seats you two had sat in earlier started to come apart, the roots unraveling and sinking back into the earth.

"Please, come with me." Strike started walking towards one of the tunnels branching out of the room, the guards smoothly moving out of their way and taking care to avoid the golden train of their gown. When you hesitated, the nymph looked over their shoulder at you. "Your companion will not be harmed. _Li, Gee, see to it that the human man is in the exact same condition as it is now when we return."_

 _"Yes, ma'am, ma'am,"_ Gee answered, though they pouted a little. Li only frowned, but nodded when their leader looked at them pointedly. That didn't reassure you much, but you felt they would do as told.

"Come now, darling, it won't take long. Neg, accompany us." Strike looked forward and started walking, their heels just barely making indents in the dirt. They still held the mushroom in their hand. You looked at Stanford again, then at Li and Gee. Neg stepped forward, gesturing for you to walk. You took a moment before nodding and starting to follow after Strike.

The three of you disappeared into a tunnel to his left, and Stanford was alone with two guards who made it clear they didn't like him at all. Li didn't relax from their parade rest, but Gee immediately bounced up and turned around to look at him.

 _"Li, look, look! It's so gross, gross,"_ they giggled, bounding over to stand a few feet in front of Stanford. Gee's completely white eyes scanned him head to toe, eyeing him like he was some sort of exhibit. Ford furrowed his brow at them. _"Oh, it looks displeased, displeased!"_

 _"Should it not be?"_ Li asked, still facing the other way. _"It is so pitiful, is it not? Can you imagine what it must be like, to be born as something so horrid? Human men have every right to remain displeased, do you not agree?"_

Stanford couldn't understand a word they were saying, nor could he imagine how you could speak their language. You must have had such exciting travels. He wanted to ask you to share your experiences with him, but right now, he wanted to know where you were and whether you would be hurt. He tried to talk, muffled through the vine and glaring at the nymph in front of him.

 _"Yes, and they also have every right to be quiet, quiet. And yet…"_ Gee strode forward even closer and tilted their head at him, reaching up to flick his nose. He tried to shake his head at them to convey his irritation, but the short being just laughed in his face. _"He is getting more irritated the longer he goes without the pretty woman. How silly, silly!"_

Stanford didn't need to know the nymphs' language like you did to realize they were continuing to mock him. He struggled a little, but could barely move. Instead, he grumbled and complained loudly against the vine at his lips. Gee grinned at his discomfort, making him complain louder.

"Are you ever able to shut up?" Li snapped, surprising Stanford into silence with the English. They clenched their fists behind their back, and he eyed them warily. After a moment, he started to make muffled noises again. Li looked over their shoulder with an annoyed expression framed by white bottlebrush. "Do you wish to be stabbed? Are you aware of how easily I can stab you at the moment?"

"Li, it's only worried, worried," Gee cut in, spinning on their heel to look at their fellow guard. A leaf at the top of their head stuck out and lightly smacked Stanford in the face at the movement. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Human men, annoyingly, cannot bear to be without their desirable women, women. It is great that this one's companion will not have to deal with it for much longer, longer."

"Do you think so?" Li hummed thoughtfully. Gee hopped over, nodding. They folded their hands behind their back and their mouth curled up in a coy smile, their sharp teeth awfully threatening for such a short nymph.

"Of course, of course! She was eyeing Neg with much interest, interest. Neg always gets some of the prettiest women, women." Gee sighed wistfully, pointedly looking away from Stanford.

That made him freeze. You, finding a nymph attractive? Surely, these two guards were only trying to rile him up for their own fun. You wouldn't openly ogle a being of folklore, especially not in front of him, no matter how big their arms were! Or how broad their shoulders seemed to be. Or how easily they carried you. Oh, dear.

He must have slumped a little, because one of the nymphs barked out a short and harsh laugh. When he looked up, the taller one was staring at him with a crude smirk.

 _"Is it not as I said? Is he not pitiful?"_ At the unmistakable mocking tone, Stanford frowned as much as he could with the vine in his mouth. Li made a noise similar to a scoff, returning to their stiff parade rest.

 _"Pitiful, pitiful,"_ Gee agreed happily, rocking on their heels. Just then, you and the other nymphs came into view. You walked between the two nymphs, though you kept some distance between yourself and Strike to avoid stepping on their train. To Ford's dismay, this caused your arm to brush against Neg's with every other step.

"Li, Gee," the leader ordered, all of you pausing near the entrance of the tunnel. "Your turn." The two nymphs started to make their way to them, and Strike waited for them to come near before turning and leading them back where you'd just come from.

 _"What's going on?"_ you asked, looking back at them as they walked out of sight. You wondered how it felt to walk in heels on the dirt. Neg slowed as well, just in front of you.

 _"Leader Gold will relay our discussion to those two,"_ they said, their voice as low and rumbly as before. You looked up at them, but their white eyes were still gazing at the tunnel. It gave you an excellent view of their jawline. _"All nymphs must be aware of the current situation, after all."_

 _"Of course."_ You glanced to the side, where Stanford was looking around with uninterested eyes. _"For what it is worth, I would have come alone if I knew there were nature spirits here."_

 _"Yes."_ Neg was looking at you now, having to tilt their head down somewhat. _"It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances, after all."_

The both of you eyed each other, and you thought you could see Neg's features soften a little. A light blush crept across your face and you looked away to clear your throat. Awkwardly, you held out your hand and introduced yourself. Neg looked you over again, but you stared at the dirt instead, starting to feel silly.

Then they reached out to touch you gently, their hand practically engulfing yours. The nymph curled their fingers around your palm and gently brought it up, catching your eye as they lightly touched your knuckles to their lips. You would have noticed the third person in the room had turned his gaze to you if you weren't so surprised.

 _"I am Neg of the Negligee Tunnel Guards, serving under Leader Gold. It is very nice to meet you,"_ they said firmly, keeping your hand to their mouth as they spoke. Their lips were softer than what anyone would expect a nymph's lips to be, considering they were made of layers of foliage. Your chest grew warm and you were suddenly very aware of how close the two of you were. If you just reached out with your other hand, you could—

"We have returned," Strike interrupted, their voice bouncing around the tunnel walls. Neg didn't react, but you jumped slightly and they let you slide your hand out of theirs. You stepped back, wringing your hands together and trying to forget the tingling feeling where Neg had touched your hand.

"Ah, Strike!" you said, probably too quickly. They exited the tunnel just as you turned around to see them, and the leader glanced between you and your friend as if wondering why you hadn't gone to him. Gee had an innocent little smile on their face and Li was eyeing you and Neg. "Hello. Have you come to a final decision?"

"Yes, darling, it has. Luckily for your companion." Strike continued walking, waving a hand to you, and you took that as a signal to make your way to their side. Neg followed, falling into position alongside the two other guards. "To remind you: in return for your companion's freedom, you will deliver us the mushrooms to replace our meat supply—that is, lack thereof. Regularly, for however long you are able, yes?"

"Yes, of course! I'm so glad we could come to an agreement, Strike," you said genuinely, not having to fake your confident posture anymore. Even standing at your tallest, Strike towered over you. "I won't let you down."

"And if you do, we will not hesitate to eat your friend no matter your feelings for it." Strike pleasantly smiled down at you, reminding you of just how sharp their teeth were. You tried very hard to smile back, but they didn't seem to care for your grimace and soon looked away from you to order, _"Gee, darling, release the human man."_

 _"Yes, Leader Gold,"_ Gee said immediately, though they didn't jump to action right away. They did a 180 turn and tilted their head at Stanford one last time, obviously having seen Neg's contact with you. It took another half second before they took action. _"Vines, please release the human."_

The vine from Stanford's mouth went first, slipping back around his head and finally allowing him to breathe easier. He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw to stretch it out. The other vines around him loosened and curled up until he could stumble out of them.

"Stanford," you said in relief, rushing forward and twisting past Li and Gee to get to him. For some reason you couldn't really imagine, he eyed Neg in particular with distaste. Your friend rubbed his jaw, but quickly held his arms out for you as you met him with a hug. "You big idiot, don't you ever do that again!"

"Ah, yes, well. I wasn't planning on doing it the first time." He barely got to hug you back before you pulled away and looked over his wrists and jaw for injury. He watched your focused expression as you cupped his face and examined it for any bruises or vine chafing.

"Your first delivery will be no later than tomorrow. After that, you will return with more mushrooms every fourteen days," Strike said, obviously having no interest in your reunion. Nonetheless, you smiled at them gratefully, to which they nodded. "Do not bring the man next time, dear. Neg, lead them out."

"Thank you again, Strike," you said, hooking your arm with Stanford's as if he might be taken away from you again. "You're very gracious."

"Yes. Thank you," Stanford added, more interested in keeping close to you.

"I do not care what you say, so say nothing," Strike replied to him. Then they turned to you again, sharing one last sharp-toothed smile. It was much more lovely when they weren't planning on killing you or your friend. (Crush?) "Your company was a pleasure. Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," you agreed, turning away slightly when Neg moved to lead you and Stanford away. You offered a nod to the other two guards. "Thank you, Li, Gee." Gee smiled at you while Li looked away, but returned the nod.

"Come," Neg said, and you looked up at them with your brows raised at their English. Though, you supposed you shouldn't be so surprised. Most of the nymphs in Foloi learned to speak Greek from the travelers there. They gestured for you to follow, and you spared the other three nymphs one last look before walking alongside your friend out of the room.

Soon, you were back in the room with the jackadeer. Neg stopped in front of the small tunnel you'd entered through. You ushered Stanford in first and looked up at the nymph as he crawled through.

"Thank you, Neg," you said kindly. "For this, and for catching me earlier when I fell from the ceiling. I can't imagine I wouldn't be hurt if you weren't there."

 _"Of course._  Thank you for providing our people with the food we need. Leader Gold seems relieved. Myself and the others are, as well." They tilted their head a bit to look at you better, continuing,

"It would be a shame, after all." Neg had their hands folded behind their back, and you couldn't help but want to hold one again. Instead, you asked,

"What would?" Neg gave you a small smile. Ironically, they weren't nearly as sharp as the others' had been despite Neg being the burliest nymph you'd ever seen.

"If I hadn't had the chance to have you in my arms," they said, low and a little sultrily, and you quickly got flustered.

"O-Oh, well, okay, I'm sure—Okay. Ah, thank you," you stumbled. Neg's expression resembled amusement and something akin to adoration. You figured it might be a bit funny to them, how small and fragile you were in comparison.

 _"Of course."_ They gestured to the small tunnel, and you gladly took the opportunity to look away from them. "Once you enter the small chamber, call to the vines. Asking them kindly will make the roots unblock the entrance, and the vines will grant you a safe ride to the surface."

"Got it. Okay." You tried to relax a little before smiling up at Neg. You started to take a slow, almost reluctant step towards the tunnel. "Thank you again. I'll see you tomorrow, right? You'll still be here?"

 _"You can see me whenever you wish. The Negligee rarely leave the tunnels, and Leader Gold seems to take kindly to you, after all."_ Neg stepped back and you nodded, glancing over the nymph's broad build for the last time. _"Tomorrow, then. Farewell."_

 _"Goodbye, Neg."_ With that, the nymph shared one last nod with you before turning away and calmly walking back across the room. You eyed them for another moment, noting the way the soft blue light shifted around on their glossy, pulled-back leaves and creamy white bottlebrush ponytail.

When you finally ducked into the tunnel and stood up again in the small room, Stanford was leaning up against the dirt wall. He was staring at the wall, unfocused, with a slight frown of discomfort on his face.

"You okay?" you asked, dusting off your pants. Stanford looked at you then, and seemed to relax a little. He straightened, adjusting his coat.

"Yes. Are you? I was worried when you fell," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You got the sense the conversation was a bit stiff for some reason. "I'm sorry for suggesting you put yourself in danger to help me."

"No, Stanford, I'm fine," you assured him. You just wanted to get him out of danger before any other nymphs found out he was here. You looked up, at where the tree roots blocked the entrance.

After a few polite words and a quick look at your map, the two of you were in a more familiar part of the forest. You studied your paper as you walked, noting the quickest way to get from the town, to the mushrooms, then the nymphs' woods. Stanford led you along, making sure you two were on a safe route back to town. It was nearly sunset by now, and neither of you wanted to be too deep into the forest when it got dark.

You tapped your pencil against a few spots on your map, then started lightly sketching a dotted line for the route you would take to make your deliveries. It felt kind of odd to be in charge of sustaining a whole group of mythical creatures, but you were sure you'd find a permanent solution before summer ended.

You folded up your map for later and took out your notebook instead, flipping to the page with the Carnivorous Mushroom. You should make up a less misleading name for it, while you were at it. As you brainstormed, Stanford called your name, and you hummed in response.

"If given the option," he started, stepping over a tree root in front of you. You followed suit without looking up from your journal. "Would you—well, hypothetically, of course, I'm just curious—Would you… ever become, ah… _involved_ with a nymph?"

"I've played the field, yes," you responded immediately, noncommittal. Meat Mushroom? Mushroom Steak? You continued listing and crossing out possible names as you stepped to the side to avoid a tree. Stanford sputtered for a second.

"You—? No, well, okay, but that isn't quite—What I meant was, would you ever become involved with Neg?" he asked. You paused in your writing to look up at him. He was facing away from you, but his shoulders were a bit hunched like they were when he was embarrassed. "Was-Was that their name?"

"Neg?" You quickened your pace a little to catch up, slowing again once you were beside him. "Well, they're attractive, but I don't think I'd have the time. I'm here on research, you know."

"Yes, but you seemed… If you had the time, hypothetically," he insisted, glancing at you before growing flustered for some reason and looking away again. You raised a brow, closing your journal with your pencil as a bookmark. You placed it into your vest.

"Stanford, why are you asking?" He stayed silent for a few seconds and you looked forward to hop over a large log. Your friend was a bit slower and accepted your hand when you offered help.

"No reason. Do you have an answer?" Okay, now he was being kind of pushy. You let go of his hand once he was safely across the log, but you didn't keep walking.

"I'm here for my research," you repeated, lightly touching the man's arm when he tried to continue. He paused and turned to face you, but couldn't quite meet your eye. You crossed your arms, a little exasperated. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

"I was just—No, it's… It isn't..." he trailed off. You stared at him for a second, debating whether it was worth it to scold him.

"I don't get it. Are you _implying_ something?" He looked affronted by your tone, and his gaze snapped to yours.

"No, no, nothing like that!"

"Then what's with the questions?"

Another beat of silence. When his eyes dragged away from you again, you only sighed and let your arms fall. You turned away, starting to walk.

"Okay, well, it's getting dark and we're half a mile from the town's lake. We should keep moving if we want to—" You yelped suddenly when an animal suddenly scurried in front of you, bringing you to a stumbling halt. Stanford shouted something in surprise and grabbed your arm, but your weight must have thrown him off because he came tumbling right down with you.

You grunted as you hit the forest floor, then groaned at the impact. Somehow, you'd managed to turn and landed on your back. You didn't hit your head again, though, and you were glad to count that win. You blinked a few times before opening your eyes, surprised to meet wide, brown ones just inches from your face.

When Stanford had tried to catch you, he'd really only succeeding in falling after you. He'd managed to catch himself, but had fallen right where you had, and was now hovering above you. His hands were planted on either side of your head, and his knees were on either side of your legs. Stanford was so close, his breath fanned across your face, quickened by the startling fall.

The two of you stared for a second, eyeing each other and catching your breath. Every time you inhaled, your chest came close to grazing his. His trenchcoat hung at his sides, and you couldn't believe how _warm_ he was.

Your eyes flickered to Stanford's lips, then up again, just in time to catch him doing the same. A beat of tense silence passed…

You snickered. Your friend reeled back a little in surprise, but your snickering turned to laughing and you vaguely noticed Stanford starting to grin at you. He chuckled as well, pushing back until he was in a kneel and offering a hand. You took it gratefully, pulling yourself up as he got to his feet. You stumbled into him a little in your laughter, but he finally laughed along and grabbed your side with his other hand before you could fall again.

"Thanks," you chuckled, calming down a little and smiling up at him. Stanford seemed to realize your irritation had left, for the most part, and happily grinned back. He looked like a total dork. You snorted and told him as such, moving your free hand to adjust his crooked glasses.

When they were on straight and he could blink down at you naturally, your smile softened. On impulse, you let your hand relax against his face.

"I'm glad you're okay, Stanford," you said tenderly, a familiar feeling starting to well up in your chest. "Really." He took a second to respond, pursing his lips and glancing away a few times as a flush started to color his face.

"Yes, well. I'm glad you are, too." He paused, ducking his head into your touch a little as he thought. He had some mild stubble, which was almost ticklish against your palm. "I'm sorry. My questions were, frankly, intrusive."

"Thank you," you said, a little surprised. Something in the back of your mind told you you kind of knew what drew Stanford to ask those sorts of questions in the first place, and you decided to listen to it. "But you don't have to worry about anything like that. Neg is an attractive person, but they're not my type."

"Your type?" His eyes snapped to yours again. You just grinned, a little more energetically this time, and took a tiny step forward to close the small distance between you two. You held his jaw in place and grazed your lips against Stanford's cheek, feeling him freeze under the soft touch. You lingered there for a second longer than what would be natural, then pulled away.

You stepped out of your friend's grasp and started to dust yourself off, adjusting your clothes as well. Stanford stood shock-still, his face noticeably a different shade than normal. You pretended not to notice, and instead huffed out a soft breath.

"As I said," you started, standing up straight and looking at him. Stanford seemed to snap out of his stupor and looked at you with wide eyes. You stifled a laugh and continued, "it's getting dark now. Let's keep going."

Stanford stared at you for another second, looking like he might take a step forward, then stopped. Instead, he cleared his throat into his fist and nodded, quickly regaining his composure.

"Right. After you." You nodded, and the two of you continued to walk side by side. The previous, tense conversation was forgotten. The walk back to town was relaxed and filled friendly chatter, and you tried not to think too much about the feeling of Stanford's stubble against your lips.

**3\. OR's nature spirits. Lack of food made them a bit tetchy, but I'm their FedEx person now! I've always liked nymphs.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next weekend, i won't be able to post an actual chapter at all. instead, i was thinking of a special! instead of a chapter on the weekend, i want to post a short chapter that may or may not be related to the story. my beta and i are going to brainstorm, but i'm open to taking ideas!
> 
> if you have anything you want to see Reader or Stanford do, please feel free to suggest prompts in the comments. if i see one or two that i really like, i'm hoping to get this little short thing posted before next weekend. the chapter i'm writing now needs a LOT of work, so i'm just looking for short and simple ideas.
> 
> please please leave any suggestions you have! no limit! if we end up getting none we can probably try to whip something up, but we'll be able to GUARANTEE cute little chapters if we already have ideas from you guys. you might notice i've put this work into a little series. bookmark this series to see related stuff i'm to write in the future!
> 
> anyway we really hope this chapter was fun to read! thank you so much for reading and possibly leaving ideas, and we hope to get a short and sweet little chapter out soon!


	7. (Quack Quack)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Special chapter!)
> 
> You get caught in the rain and your two best friends take care of you. You wonder where Stanford learned to hotwire cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! In case you didn't see last chapter's notes, I won't be able to post an actual chapter this weekend. Instead, have this one!
> 
> This chapter is CANON, but isn't relevant to the main story. I'm having trouble writing the actual plot chapter, but this one was quicker to write and turned out pretty long anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

You clutched your thin cardigan closer to yourself, shivering as you walked. Your steps were quick, but you were weary of moving too fast after you nearly slipped a few blocks ago. You knew the storm would come, but you were still so unprepared for it.

It was an ungodly hour of the morning, right after your graveyard shift ended. The big chain store you were currently working at stayed open past midnight, and you were the one to clean up and close. You wanted to be annoyed, but the employee you were supposed to close with was a single mother who had no business being stuck on that late of a shift on a school day. You had practically begged her to drive home around eleven and clocked out for her as well as yourself.

You would have been worried about shady people if you weren't sure you were the only person stupid enough to be out in this weather. The rain was ice-cold, and had soaked through your thin wool cardigan and polyester polo shirt like it was tissue paper. The fact that you wore jeans didn't make things any easier for you. Even if the buses did run this late, you weren't sure you'd even be allowed on board.

You glanced up long enough to see the downpour barely illuminated by dim streetlights. For some reason, that was what reminded you that hypothermia existed. You groaned, inaudible even to yourself under the pouring rain, and kept rushing down the main road to find some shelter. Why did the campus have to be so isolated?

As you rushed forward, hugging yourself tighter and praying to anyone listening that your wallet wouldn't be soaked through, a car started driving up behind you. You didn't notice the headlights at first, more focused on hurrying to a dry spot. Only when it slowed next to you did you register it was even there.

You didn't slow down as you glanced at it, growing wary at the unfamiliar vehicle. Then the passenger window rolled down, and instead of a sketchy stranger trying to offer you a ride, you could just make out a familiar blue button-up on the driver's side.

"Get in!" a deep voice called, and you recognized it immediately. Without hesitation, you rushed across the small patch of grass between the sidewalk and the road to pull the car door open. In the same second, you leaped inside, and the driver already had the window rolled back up by the time your door shut. The seats and door were already soaked, but you couldn't tell the difference.

"T-Thanks," you said breathlessly, just registering the heat of the car. Stanford picked up speed, but drove far under the speed limit to account for low visibility. A thought occurred to you. "Hey, I-I thought your license exp-pired."

"What were you thinking?!" he exclaimed, looking at you briefly before glaring at the road. You pursed your lips and sank into your seat a little. "Why would you walk in this kind of weather all by yourself?! Do you know how dangerous it is for _anyone_ to be out alone this late? It's freezing! You don't even have a proper sweater!"

"I d-d-didn't have a rid-de!" you defended, though you winced when you realized your chattering teeth were audible. You hadn't noticed it in the rain. None-too-subtly, Stanford reached out with one hand to turn the heat and air all the way up. No doubt he was sweating in his sweater vest and long-sleeve.

"What the heck do you think I told you to remember the _storm_ for, you knucklehead?! Do you know how terrified me and Fiddleford were when we called the store over and over and no one picked up?" You must have left before they called, meaning Stanford had come as quick as he could. You couldn't think of anything to say. Your teeth kept chattering even though you tried desperately to still your jaw.

"Unbelievable! I can't believe you would put yourself in danger like that," Stanford continued, his angry voice unfamiliar and unnerving. You leaned away from him a little, but then you realized he was talking to himself more than you. "The storm of the year, they're calling it! It's the heaviest downpour we've seen in years, and you're out _speedwalking_!"

You rubbed your hands up and down your upper arms as Stanford pulled to a stop in front of a pointless red light. He turned to reach into the backseat, grabbing his coat and quickly freeing it from the crumpled ball it was in before leaning over to drape it around you.

When you couldn't bring yourself to put your arms through the sleeves, Stanford just brought the coat around you tightly before returning his hands to the wheel. The coat was still warm, and smelled like books and ink.

"Me and Fiddleford were worried sick, and you _actually_  went and got yourself sick!" He double-checked to make sure there were no cars before driving through the green light. He glanced between you and the road, then leaned over again to adjust the air vents so they pointed at you. "I can't imagine what _nonsense_ was going through your head. Why would you even leave work in this weather?"

"B-Because I—H-H-Homework." He looked at you incredulously, his wide, fiery eyes meeting your timid ones for the first time since you got into the car. You shrunk into yourself a little, and his features softened before he looked away and reminded himself to be mad at you.

"You left shelter and walked half a mile in the pouring rain for _homework_?"

"L-Like you would-d-dn't d-do the s-same!"

"Leave shelter and walk half a mile in the pouring rain for _homework_?" he clarified, his voice raising. "No! I wouldn't! Homework doesn't trump my health, and I cannot believe you let it trump your common sense!"

"Y-You keep s-s-stressing words in every single sentence an-d-d-d it's f-freaking me out!" you finally shouted.

"I just picked you up from what might become a _thunderstorm_ at _two_ in the morning and it's freaking _me_ out!" he exclaimed nearly as loudly.

You slumped back in your seat, then leaned forward again to get closer to the heating fans. You continued to rub your arms under the coat, and Stanford didn't say anything for a minute or two.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally, keeping his eyes on the road. He was still tense, but he spoke at a normal volume. You didn't look at him either, more interested in figuring out the best way to position yourself for more warmth.

"Fine," you said, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering. Stanford took a turn off the main road, and you tried not to think about how far you would have been walking.

"No, you're not. We're going to Fiddleford's apartment." He reached out to turn the heat up, but it was already at its max setting. "Stupid car," he hissed.

"I-It's fine, Stanford, it's alread-dy helping." You needed to change out of your soaked clothes, but the heat was doing decent enough. You shakily let go of yourself to rub your hands together in front of a vent. "Where'd you even g-get a car, anyway?"

Stanford was quiet for a few seconds. You barely noticed, rubbing and flexing your hands as they regained feeling. Your friend said something after a short while, but you couldn't make it out.

"What?" you asked, exhaling onto your hands. Stanford repeated himself, a bit louder.

"We're borrowing it." His tone was clipped. You glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable.

"B-Borrowing from who?" You looked down at yourself. You should ask Fiddleford to lend you his fluffy socks when you got to his place. You couldn't really feel your toes.

"Whom," he corrected. You shot him an unimpressed look, and he glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. "Uh… I'm not sure."

"What d-do you mean you're n-not sure?"

"I don't know!"

"Why are you g-getting d-defensive?"

"I'm not!"

"Yes y-you are!"

"I am _not_!"

"S-Stanford F-Filbrick Pines, did you steal a c-c-car?!"

"We're borrowing it!"

*

You were still cold by the time Stanford parked haphazardly in front of Fiddleford's apartment building, but the heat from the borrowed (stolen) car helped. You could feel your fingers again and your teeth had stopped chattering for the most part.

Stanford left the car running as he got out, rushing around to your side. You could see Fiddleford hurriedly approaching through the rain, carrying a large umbrella. Stanford opened your door once Fiddleford came close enough to hold the umbrella overhead, and you shuddered at the blast of cold. They helped you get out of the car, and kept on either side of you as you all rushed to the building.

Fiddleford handed off the umbrella so Stanford could "Put that car back exactly the way you found it, Pines, or so help me!" and ushered you inside. The air conditioning didn't help your situation much, and you pulled Stanford's coat tighter around your shoulders.

"Don't worry, darlin', I got the heat on in my apartment," Fiddleford assured you, wrapping an arm around your back and rubbing your opposite upper arm. He kept you close to him as he led you to an elevator, and you leaned into his side the whole way up. His apartment was unlocked and pleasantly warm, and you could hear water running.

"Is that soup?" you asked, looking at a big pot on the stove as you were led past the kitchen. It smelled like the homemade thing, too, not the canned kind the three of you usually relied on.

"After you shower," your friend stated, and stopped in front of his bathroom. He opened the door and a little steam rolled out. "Warm yerself up. I have clothes in the dryer for you when yer done."

Fiddleford unwrapped himself from around you, but held your arm as he looked you up and down. You were shaking a little in your sticky clothes, and couldn't bring your body to stop. You frowned at his worried face.

"Hey, I'm fine," you said, but he only hummed that way polite people do when they don't believe you. Your friend suddenly brought you into a tight hug, not seeming to mind the wetness of your clothes. He pulled away before you could hug him back, and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before nudging you into the bathroom.

"Holler if you need me, okay?" You nodded, and Fiddleford closed the door behind you. You felt bad for scaring the living crap out of your friends, but… but nothing. It was stupid to think the rain would let up.

Reluctantly, you took Stanford's damp trenchcoat off before peeling the rest of your clothes from your body. You left your wet clothes in the sink, not wanting to create a puddle on the tiled floor.

Most of your money was in the bank, thankfully, so you didn't have much in your wallet that would get soaked through. You carefully separated your dollar bills and dried off the cards you had, leaving them all on the counter.

You took care to cool the shower down for a little before heading in, then steadily cranked up the heat again to avoid shocking your body temperature. By the time you had finished scrubbing yourself down with your hands and Fiddleford's floral body wash, the shower was near scalding. Somewhere during your rinse, you heard the door crack open.

"You alright, hun?" Fiddleford called. You peeked your head from behind the shower curtain and grinned at the way the shower's steam was fogging up his glasses.

"I'm great. I'm almost done boiling." You glanced down at your hands and feet, which had become red from the water. Fiddleford took care to avoid looking at you as he came in, setting folded clothes and a thick towel on the counter.

"Glad t' hear it. Brought clothes for when yer cooked through." You eyed the pile, moving a few strands of wet hair from your forehead.

"Fluffy socks?" you asked.

"Fluffy socks," Fiddleford said seriously.

You thanked him before he left you again to finish up. You took another few minutes to stand under the hot water before stepping out and drying off with the warm towel. Fiddleford's clothes were soft and comfortable, and you took care to avoid stepping in any puddles you made once you had the socks on. You wrung out your damp clothes and left them to drain further in the sink.

You managed to keep the warm towel in a twisty crown atop your head before leaving the bathroom. Fiddleford had just set a steaming bowl of soup on his small table and pulled your seat out for you.

"Thank you. Where's Stanford?" you asked, sitting down and accepting the spoon he handed to you. Right on cue, the door to the apartment opened and your tutor stepped into the room. His sleeves looked a bit wet, and he shook the umbrella out in the hall.

"Stanford!" Fiddleford scolded, and Stanford paused to look at him. He narrowed his eyes and just shook the umbrella again. Your friend huffed behind you as Stanford stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you and dropped the umbrella to head to your side, earning an indignant noise from Fiddleford.

"Are you okay? Are you sneezing? Nose running? How many fingers do you have?" he asked hastily, kneeling next to you. His concerned anger seemed to have settled into just the concern.

"It's okay, I'm okay," you said, leaving your spoon in the bowl to let him take your hands. That guilt from earlier hit you again, and you slumped down a little as Stanford looked you up and down. "I'm fine. Thank you for picking me up."

"I still can't believe—"

"I'm sure the girl's had enough of your scoldin' on the way here, mother hen."

Fiddleford placed a dish towel on the floor near the door, propping the wet umbrella up in the corner to drip onto it. Stanford frowned and looked up at you.

"Eat your soup," he said after looking at your face. He still sounded a little grumpy, but gave a light squeeze to your hands before letting go and standing up. You watched him pull out the seat next to you, and Fiddleford brought over two more bowls of soup.

The three of you ate together in relative silence until you'd gotten up to grab another serving. Stanford nearly spit his soup out trying to tell you to sit back down, then refilled your bowl for you. Fiddleford eyed the two of you as he sipped from his spoon, but didn't comment. A few more minutes passed, and you gently blew on your steaming spoonful.

"... I can't believe you stole a car," you said blandly.

"I told you t' take my car, ya dunderhead!" Fiddleford shouted suddenly, as if he was waiting for someone to mention it.

"It wouldn't start!" Stanford defended, his hands shooting into a "What did you expect me to do?" gesture and consequently flinging a few drops of soup across the table.

"So you _stole_ a car?" you asked, the weight of it just sinking in. You left your spoon in the bowl again, leaning forward a little. "Where did you even learn to do that?"

"Eat your soup, Miss Essay, or I'll flunk you right now." He turned to point at you with his spoon.

"It's meant to be twenty pages, and it's due in two days!"

"If it was about your experience with hypothermia, I'm sure you'll pass."

"Havens to Betsy, y'all are _not_ about to start makin' out at my dining table!" Fiddleford hit the desk with his free hand, making his bowl clatter. Both of you turned to look at him, blushes quickly rising to your face.

Fiddleford started to rub the bridge of his nose as the two of you started shouting at him. You two were shut up pretty quickly when an angry banging came from the apartment below you, reminding you of the late hour.

Fiddleford ignored you and Stanford's flustered glares as you all finished eating. He had the brunet put away the dishes and leftovers, and led you to his bedroom.

"You'll take the bed," he stated, leaving no room for argument. He bustled about the small space, grabbing an empty mug off his desk and pulling the bedsheets taught. "Stanford and I will sleep in the living room."

"Are you—" He cut you off without mercy, fluffing up a pillow.

"Young lady, if yer about to ask if I'm sure, I'll strap Stanford to the ceilin'." Stanford peeked into the room, looking between the two of you.

"What was that about me and the ceiling?" Without looking, Fiddleford took a pillow from his bed and threw it over his shoulder. Amazingly, it hit Stanford square in the face. Your mouth made a little O shape at the feat, then turned into a grin when Stanford adjusted his glasses to frown at you.

"I'll show you where my extra sheets are, Stanford," Fiddleford said, turning around. He said your name so you looked at him. "You sure you're alright? No fever?"

"Uh, nothing," you confirmed, shaking your head. Fiddleford flicked on his bedside lamp and grabbed another pillow for himself, his empty mug still in hand.

"You let one of us know if you wake up in a cold sweat, okay?" You nodded, pursing your lips. Fiddleford gave you a look. "I mean it. Wake one of us up if you think you're getting sick. I'll check in on ya in the mornin' 'fore I leave."

"I'll be fine, Fidds," you assured him. The boys looked at other with the same expression of pure doubt. You sighed softly and sat back onto the edge of the bed. "Okay. I'll wake one of you up if anything is wrong."

"If you don't, I'll have to send a strongly-worded email to your professor," Stanford threatened. Fiddleford raised a brow.

"Like ya ain't already plannin' on it," he drawled. Before Stanford could comment, Fiddleford looked at you and nodded. "'ave a good night, then, darlin'."

"Thank you both. Really," you said, feeling another pang of guilt. You were annoyed that you'd made your friends go through all this trouble for you. Even now, the rain was heavy despite having let up. If it weren't for them, you would have been alone in your dorm without knowing what to do with yourself, if you would have made it by now. You said it again: "Thank you."

You all traded "Goodnight"s, and Fiddleford flicked the ceiling light off before closing your door. The lamp he'd turned on earlier provided dim light that you took a moment to get used to, looking around the room.

Fiddleford's desk was large, and had a few open textbooks and notebooks alike with pens and pencils in the dip of their spines. From where you were sitting, you could see some ring stains in the wood near the right hand corner, likely from past coffee mugs he'd brought in. When you buried yourself under the sheets, you noticed they had a pleasant, detergent smell. Fiddleford did seem like the type to wash them often.

You got comfortable, hearing faint bickering coming from outside the room. It went on for a good few seconds until there was a sharp "Shh!" noise. You could hear the boys moving around out in the main room, but they were speaking at a volume much more suitable for the lonely time of quarter till three in the morning. You didn't notice you were smiling until you turned off the desk light.

You had a feeling you were going to get a good night's sleep.

*

You weren't having a good night's sleep.

You were having the opposite of a good night's sleep. You'd woken up three times now, each time feeling worse than the last. You thought you'd be dead tired after a five hour shift into the early morning, but you were just feeling dead. You had kicked the blankets off in your sleep and woke up shivering and covered in a film of sweat, your shuddering breaths roaring through your ears louder than the steady pattering of the rain outside.

Fiddleford had told you to wake them up if you felt sick, but you genuinely didn't think you were capable. You'd just wanted to go back to sleep instead of wasting so much of your little energy to get out of the bed, but you couldn't even have that. Still, you thought hazily, you shouldn't wait until morning and make them fret over you more than they already would.

With that foggy thought, you tried to sit up. Your hand slipped in the sheets and you slammed back into pillows that seemed much harder than they had a little while ago. Fiddleford had a little alarm clock on his bedside, and you forced yourself to reach up to turn on the lamp next to it. Through blurry vision, you could make out that it was was barely 4 o'clock. Over an hour had passed since you'd gotten into bed, but it felt like you'd gotten around twenty minutes of sleep.

Was it getting hotter in here, or was it just you? You huffed out a silent laugh at that, but your nose felt uncomfortably hot. You raised a hand and let it fall onto your forehead, making you wince. It was sticky with sweat and far hotter than it should have been.

Take two, then. You tried to sit up and only managed to slip again. Your head hit the pillows and spun at the impact.

Take three. Third time's the charm. This time, you rolled onto your front and carefully pushed yourself up with both hands. Success!

You stood up on shaky legs, holding onto the edge of the bed for dear life as you shuffled along. Fiddleford's clothes, initially warm and pleasant, felt disgustingly damp and horrible on your skin. You resisted the urge to take them off and climb back into the bed. Considering you were also tempted to run a freezing bath and jump in, you didn't think you should trust yourself to make any important decisions at the moment.

You stumbled to the doorframe when the bed ended and slumped against the sturdy drywall, catching your breath for a moment. Your palms were grossly clammy and your hands shook as you gripped the doorknob and twisted. Without bothering to close it, you hobbled out and placed a hand on the wall outside to start guiding yourself along the dark apartment.

You could hear soft, even breaths coming from the living room area of the apartment. You tried to copy them, but the air coming out of your nose still felt tear-jerkingly hot. Man, your throat was dry. Without thinking, you took a detour into the kitchen. Fiddleford kept his cups in the cupboard above the sink. You opened it and took a glass out. You nearly dropped it.

Instead, you set it down on the counter with an almost audible noise the moment you felt yourself weaken considerably. Your knees gave out and you sank to the floor, your body hating yet longing the cool kitchen linoleum. Because you couldn't hold up your own weight anyway, you let yourself slink down to lay on your back.

You didn't realize someone had come into the kitchen a few minutes later, because it felt like a few seconds later to you. Your right arm was over your face, legs splayed at awkward angles across the floor. One of your friends was talking to you in a hushed voice, you realized, and you took a moment to figure out why you were in the kitchen. You couldn't really figure it out.

"Come on, get up," Stanford urged you, one arm around your back and lifting you into a sitting position ever so slowly. You looked completely dazed and confused, and he tried to ignore the panic that welled up in his chest. He said your name a few times when your body kept gravitating towards the floor. "Let's get you back to bed. Easy, now, I've got you."

When he had walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, he had certainly not expected to see you passed out on the floor. He would have stepped on you, if not for the alarmingly broken breaths you were heaving. His first instinct was that you fell; that you'd come in here an hour ago and fainted onto the floor. Then he noticed the glass on the counter that hadn't been dropped or shattered, and tried to convince himself you had just sat down or something.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head?" he asked, moving forward in his kneel to put his bent leg behind your back for support. You blinked slowly, trying to register the question, before shaking your head in the most subtle way he'd ever seen you move.

Stanford tried to get you to stand again, but you were so terrifyingly pliable at the moment. You just let him lift your arms up, putting no effort into resisting or helping. He would have thought you were still unconscious if it weren't for the way you looked at him blankly, like he was a puzzle in your mind with several missing pieces. He forced himself to quit thinking of how terrible that sounded in his head.

"You don't look like you can stand, so I'm going to lift you up, okay?" When you didn't answer, Stanford just slid his arms around you anyway. He quickly moved your arm over his shoulder before standing up slowly, cradling you to his chest in a bridal carry and avoiding jostling you on his way to the sofa.

Fiddleford woke up with little nudging and whispering, and only took a second to recognize your limp form before shooting up so quick, he nearly fell over. Stanford let him lead the way to the bedroom, taking care not to bump you into the doorframe on the way in.

*

You cracked your eyes open to see… nothing. It was pitch black. You glanced around for a few moments without moving your head until you stopped to stare at a square of dim blue light nearby. It was the window of Fiddleford's bedroom. Your hands were at your sides and you flexed your fingers a little to feel bedsheets. You were back in bed.

Did you just dream your trip to the kitchen, then? Was that just one of those dreams that make you think you were productive, but really you just laid down a different way and drifted off? It must have been, since you didn't remember anything after opening the cupboard.

It was unpleasantly cold and uncomfortably hot at the same time. Instinctively, you tried kicking your legs a little to get rid of the blanket. It didn't work. You blinked a few times, then moved your head around somewhat. Your eyesight started to adjust and you immediately froze at what you saw.

There was a figure next to you, their chest raising up and down hypnotically. You struggled for a little to get your arm out of the swaddle you were in and rubbed your eyes. When you turned to the figure again through the gross fog of your mind, you realized you were looking at Stanford.

He had his glasses off, and was laying on his back at the edge of the bed. There was a decent amount of distance between you, which was good, because you felt insanely sick. One of his arms was outstretched a little closer to you, and his other was draped across his chest. He snored obnoxiously. It was a little cute.

You heard something move on the floor, and turned to look over the edge of the bed as best you could without falling off. Fiddleford was asleep there, nestled on a surplus of pillows and sheets that they must have been using in the living room. He had rolled onto his side in his sleep and mumbled incoherently for a second before going back to his quiet breathing. You shuffled back to your spot on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It hadn't been a dream, then. They must have found you in the kitchen and brought you back to bed. Your friends had carried you into the room and even slept nearby so they'd know if anything else happened. You felt like a kid again, getting sick in the dumbest way and falling asleep on the couch or something, only to wake up after your parents… Nevermind. You didn't want to think about your parents right now.

You could feel yourself sweating through the blankets they must have wrapped you in, but you were too weak to do anything about it. You felt too weak to do anything, really, and just let your eyes droop closed again. Stanford and Fiddleford's steady breathing was very comforting to listen to, and you drifted off in no time at all.

*

"Wake up, hun, I got some cold medicine for ya." A soft voice paired with the gentle squeezing of your shoulder brought you out of sleep, and you groaned in response. Fiddleford chuckled above you. "No need for the attitude, missy. Get on up, now."

You were half-asleep when Fiddleford got you to sit up, but you still made a face at the bitter medicine he spoon fed you. He brought a bottle of water to your lips and gently swatted your hands away when you tried to reach for it yourself.

"What's happening?" Stanford groaned from your other side. You glanced over, but your other friend kept an eye on you as you drank. "Are we awake?"

"You certainly need to be," Fiddleford said, taking the water bottle away when you made a sleepy noise of complaint. He stood up straight and screwed it shut, but kept the cap loose. He left it on the bedside table. "I'm 'bout to get ready to head out. Darlin's in no shape to leave the apartment right now, so you'll have to stay here 'til my shift ends."

"I'm only a month ahead right now, but I guess I can skip my classes for the day," Stanford yawned. You carefully gulped down your mouthful of water, staring at Fiddleford as he rolled his eyes.

"Good ta hear," the mechanic drawled. He looked at you, softening and gently pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You shivered at how cool it was, but couldn't move very much. Though the blankets around you had loosened considerably, you didn't have much free range. Fiddleford took his hand away and started to say something, but you just blinked slowly again and started to slump backwards.

When you didn't respond to whatever he had asked, Fiddleford just placed an arm behind your back and gently lowered you to the bed. Stanford was in the middle of some tired comment by the time you fell back asleep.

*

"This is fine. This is good."

"Stanford?"

"Yes?"

"I hate this. So much."

"We're being critical thinkers."

"We're standing in a cold shower with all of our clothes on."

Stanford stood his ground, ignoring the way his hair drooped over his forehead. You stared at him, completely unimpressed by the way he tried (and failed) to seem confident by puffing his chest out.

"We're saving water and making sure you don't slip," he rationalized, adjusting his grip on your arms.

"How am I supposed to wash myself?" you asked, watching the stream of water his hair led to run over his face.

"You aren't. We're just cooling you off, and then I'll leave you alone to change once you're safely out of the tub." He patted your arm twice. Your expression didn't change.

"This sucks." You brought a hand up to wipe water out of your eyes. "Okay, I'm cool, let's get out before you get sick, too." Stanford made sure you were steady before reaching behind you to turn the shower off slowly, as if he hadn't begun to shiver in the low temperature.

He helped you out of the tub and you gripped his arms to keep yourself upright as you stepped out. When he sat you down on the closed toilet seat and handed you a towel, you reached out to touch his sleeve.

"Stanford?" He paused and turned to you, about to walk out.

"Yes?" he asked. You stared at him blankly, feeling a little winded.

"This is… probably not going to be in your comfort zone," you said slowly, "but I need help taking off my clothes."

"... I see."

"And you're the only person here."

"... I see."

And thus, you were trying to help your tutor and classmate undo your bra.

"It's so easy!" you exclaimed, curled in on yourself as Stanford fumbled with the clasp. You already had Fiddleford's shirt and shorts off, with a towel around your waist to make up for it. The bathroom counter was cold against your feet. You hugged your knees to your chest tightly. "You just grab the thing and undo it. It's a hook."

"I know what it is!" Stanford said from behind you, sounding just as flustered as he had been when you'd asked him for help in the first place. "It isn't like I've ever touched one of these things before!"

"You're allowed to say bra, Stanford." He grumbled behind you, and you decided to make fun of him because he had been messing with the thing for a few minutes now. "Say it with me. Bra. Buh-rah. Bra."

"Okay, okay, just let me concentrate," he scolded, and you rolled your eyes. You had tried to take your bra off yourself, but your arms had lost any strength and will they had the night before. After being in the shower, the cotton clung to your chest and you weren't sure you could manage turning it around to undo it in the front, either.

"You'd think a guy like you would have at least some sort of experience doing this," you grumbled, almost wishing you could get back into the cold shower again. Stanford paused in his clumsy handling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You made a noncommittal noise in response, ducking your head onto your knees. Stanford waited for a few seconds before continuing. A beat passed, and his hands dropped away. "Wait here."

"Why?" you asked. The door opened behind you.

"I'm going to find scissors," he said solemnly.

"What?! No! Stanford, get back here!"

*

"You're a pathetic excuse for a human being. You don't care about anyone but yourself," you spat. "Everything you do, everything you strive for, it's all utter nonsense. I hate you. You're dead to me."

"Please just eat the soup," Stanford replied from his chair, bringing the spoon closer to you.

"No! I can feed myself," you hissed, leaning back against the wall behind the bed.

"You'll drop everything all over the sheets and I'll have to clean it up," he explained for the nth time. You pursed your lips when you couldn't move back anymore, even when he pressed the spoon against your mouth. He said your name in exasperation and you frowned.

"Just give me the bowl. I don't need you to do ev—" While you were talking, Stanford rudely shoved the spoon into your mouth. You jumped in shock and glared at him. He glared right back until you begrudgingly closed your mouth around the spoon and he pulled it away.

"You're fussy when you're sick," he noted, scooping up another spoonful. You just kept your glare until he fed you more soup and you registered just how good it was.

"Seriously," you said when Stanford paused to blow on the next spoonful. "You and Fidds have already done everything for me so far. I can feed myself, I swear."

"Like you swore you'd be fine working so late?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. You tensed and looked away from him, finding the desk particularly interesting.

"You're still mad about that?" you asked, a bit softer now. Stanford didn't look at you.

"Of course I'm still mad," he said, sounded more disappointed than angry. You winced. "I thought you had your ride back figured out and everything. You told us so."

"My coworker was—" He looked up at you with a frown and the words immediately became stuck in your throat. You closed your mouth, looking away again. You counted the number of visible rings on the desk's wood.

"You could have called. Or waited. Fiddleford told you we would be waiting here, didn't he?" Stanford asked. You considered lying, but nodded after a moment, rubbing your upper arm with the opposite hand. "We were worried about you."

That last statement was so full of stress and concern. God, you really had been so stupid to think you could have made it to campus okay. What would you have done if the guys hadn't bothered trying to check up on you? You thought about how far Stanford had driven you, how much more road you would have had to cover on foot. You sniffled a little.

"Oh my gosh, wait, don't cry!" Stanford said in alarm. You couldn't help it, and the tears that had been building finally fell. You brought your hands to your face, embarrassed. "No, no, it's okay, I was just—I didn't mean it! I'm not mad at you! Neither of us are mad at you, we—You—We were just worried!"

You hiccuped at the effort of keeping your sobs in your throat, and Stanford only became more panicked. You heard a clink and peeked out from over your hands to see he had placed the bowl down on the bedside table and shot up to stand over you.

"I'm so sorry, don't cry!" he fretted, reaching out and then pulling away like he wasn't sure whether to touch you. You shook your head, sniffling, and Stanford gave you the napkin he'd brought in with the soup. You blew your nose and he rushed out of the room, coming back just as quickly with a box of tissues.

"I'm sorry," you hiccuped, trying to dab the tears away with the sleeve of the shirt you borrowed. Stanford grabbed the wire waste bin beneath Fiddleford's desk and set it beside you. You dropped your used napkin in and reached for another tissue. "I didn't mean to, I was—Oh, I was being stupid, I was alone and I thought I could—"

Before you could stop it, a sob left you and you clamped the tissue over your mouth. Stanford tensed and looked around the room as if something that could help would appear out of thin air. You blew your nose again.

"Stanford, I'm sorry," you tried again, trying to reel yourself in. He looked at you and you just sniffled and brought your knees to your chest before nodding at the empty space in front of you. He hesitated a little, but sat down. "I'm sorry that I worried you. I know I should have called, but I was just—I don't know."

The store where you worked wasn't at all intimidating, even at night. It was a large warehouse that had just been restocked, and all the indoor and outdoor lights had been on. The doors were locked and there was a backup generator that would run if the power went out, according to your manager. You could hardly tell it was even nighttime.

Except it had been so quiet. No one but you was in there, and no one but you would be in there if you had stayed to avoid the storm. The store opened at five in the morning, and although a few cars had driven by, the empty warehouse and its empty car lot seemed to stretch on for miles.

It was familiar, safe, and it would have saved you a lot of trouble if you had just stayed put. But the silence had been suffocating, the bright lights had been blinding, and the knowledge that you were the only one in the building had been enough to drive you out. You just wanted to get somewhere with actual people, but you had gone about it in the most reckless way possible.

"I should have called, or-or waited for your call. I'm sorry. I-I didn't even think, I was—I'm sorry." You were a mess. Your face was flushed with your fever and your tears, and a horrible feeling of doom blossomed in your stomach and made you shudder. "You were so—Both of you, you and Fidds, I didn't mean to make either of you worry that much or do so much for me, and now I'm sick and you can't even go to class, and—I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

It was like you were in the rain again. You couldn't feel your face besides the sting of your tears. You couldn't feel your fingers or toes. Cold dread creeped up over you, like an invisible and unstoppable threat was about to strike, and you were shaking a little as you dabbed your tissue over your face. You jumped and looked up when a hand came onto your upper arm. Stanford quickly drew his hand back at your flinch.

"You—No, _I'm_ sorry. Obviously, something more is bothering you. You know what you did was dangerous and you feel bad for making us, uh, concerned about your well-being. That's enough." That tore another round of sobs from you and Stanford held the tissue box within easy reach when you started taking a few at a time from it. He said your name softly, tenderly, like it was something to be used with the utmost care. "You're okay. We're just glad you're okay."

His hand was still hovering near you, and you moved your arm closer to it to let him know you wouldn't mind the touch now. Stanford looked at you for a few seconds before reaching for you again, gently placing his warm palm just above your elbow. When you didn't pull away this time, he scooted over to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a side hug.

The warmth helped more than he could have imagined, and when you tried to move closer to him he readily obliged. You two ended up close enough that you were curled up against his side, blowing your nose into your tissue. You tried to keep your thoughts on the feeling of his body heat through that lame sweater vest. You melted a little when he started moving his thumb in small, comforting circles on your shoulder.

You weren't sure how long it took, but your soup had stopped steaming by the time your crying had reduced to lone sniffles. The wire waste bin at your feet was half full of your used, crumpled tissues. Stanford hadn't stopped tracing his thumb over your shoulder, but you noticed it had started tracing different shapes over time.

"Thank you," you said, voice a little hoarse. "For finding me." Stanford paused in his ministrations, but started up again in the next second. This time, he was making a square shape.

"You weren't that hard to see," Stanford replied smoothly, though his tone was too flat to be as casual as he tried to make it sound. Then, trying for levity, "I could tell it was you right away. You waddle when you walk." You let out a startled laugh.

"I do not." You nudged him with your elbow a little, but ended up just melting further into him as he started moving his thumb in a slow arch.

"You do." You could practically hear the grin growing on his face. "You're like a duck. Especially in the rain."

"I do not walk like a duck and you know it." That got him to laugh.

"What was that? Quack quack?" he asked, starting an oval. You snickered. You also wondered whether he even knew what picture he was painting on your sleeve.

"Yeah? At least ducks know not to steal cars." Stanford made a noise that, ironically, sounded like an actual quack. You barked out a laugh at the sound.

"Fiddleford's car wouldn't start and this car was taking up two parking spots so it was the easiest to take, okay? The owner's lucky I took the time to park it correctly," he defended firmly. He made zig-zag lines on your shoulder now, matching his sudden change in attitude.

The two of you made quick back-and-forth, and the only evidence of your earlier breakdown was the wire bin near the bed. You traded jokes and friendly jabs at one another for just as long as you'd spent crying. You were laughing loudly at Stanford's professional impression of a duck, when a knock came from the door and Fiddleford stepped in.

"What's all this ruckus about?" he asked, a small smile on his face when he saw you were enjoying yourself. You started to reply, but Stanford cut you off with another one of his quacking sounds and you totally lost it. He greeted the happily-confused Fiddleford as you wheezed.

These two were your best friends. They cared for you so much, even when you did something reckless and couldn't find it in you to explain why. They meant the world to you, and you couldn't imagine yourself without them.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noticed the rain had finally calmed into a silent drizzle. As if to make up for the quiet, Fiddleford's room was filled with the sound of laughter and amused quips.

Stanford kept tracing shapes into your shoulder. You didn't bother mentioning it when you noticed he had moved on to hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses as to who taught Stanford how to break into a car :)
> 
> Anyway, as I said I'm having a little trouble with the main story. This was a nice little writing exercise though, so I'll probably be able to get back to it after this weekend! For now, thanks so much for reading and please let me know what you think!


	8. For the Lovebirds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Stanford make brownies at 6 AM, and Stan gets a little protective. Fiddleford learns something new (or discovers something old).
> 
>  **WARNING:** This chapter contains blatant display of open weapon-handling. Specifically, laser guns. I do not condone or encourage the act of openly carrying firearms in real life, certified or not. Also, one character starts to cry profusely for an undisclosed reason, but not to the extent of it being a panic attack. If this bothers you in any way, I've put a warning before these scenes so you can skip over the rest of the chapter and scroll straight to the footnotes for a summary. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen
> 
> sorry for the weeks delay! this chapter took me time to write because i had no idea what i was doing. i tried to make it a bit longer to make up for the wait, but i'll definitely start writing more! school started last week and i've been doing stuff that whole time but i think i've had enough time to think things through
> 
> that said, i kind of need a new beta to help out with ideas. Eve unfortunately had to step down and we've become friends, but she won't be completely able to assist anymore (yes I'm still sad) so if you're interested, please read the notes below!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter!

_I trust you with my life._

*

"Twelve PhDs and you can't figure out how to work a dishwasher," Stan grumbled, aggressively mopping the floor. Stanford stood in front of him, trying to get the suds out from the machine with a dish towel.

"They don't exactly have warning labels, Stanley. And we're out of the right soap," he defended, frowning and taking a few glasses out of the machine to set them in the sink.

"Add it to the list." Stanford just made a noise of acknowledgement, glancing at the oven clock for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. Stan's frown deepened, but he stayed quiet. Until Stanford slowed in his wiping to look at it _again_. Stan planted the mop on the floor, gaining his twin's attention. "Okay, what's the deal?"

"What?" Stanford asked, completely stopping in his cleanup. He was wide-eyed and Stan huffed, pointing the handle of the mop at him accusingly.

"You're thinking instead of cleaning, and I'm not about to finish before you and leave you in here by yourself to muck everything up again." Stanford made an affronted noise, but Stan kept going, "What's itchin' you, Sixer?"

"What's—Nothing, Stanley, it's nothing." Stan stared, deadpan. Stanford made a face and then sighed, placing his dish towel down. "I'm just—She's been gone the whole day."

"That's it? You miss your woman?" Stan asked, dead serious. Stanford immediately became flustered, shaking his head and tensing as his face became an even shade of pink. Between his stammering, Stan just rolled his eyes and started mopping again. "Just ask 'er to dinner next time you see 'er to spend some time alone. It's not rocket science, Poindexter."

"But—What—I mean, no, it isn't, and that's the problem!" Stanford insisted. His brother just snorted. "I'm serious, Stanley. I can _do_ rocket science—Asking a woman to dinner is a whole different science entirely!"

"You did _not_ just call dating 'science'." Stan didn't think he was going to give his twin brother a pep talk today, but he guessed it was needed. Desperately. He finished mopping up the rest of the suds and leaned up against the counter, grabbing his can of Pitt. "Look, Sixer, the lady's into you. You're into her. What's the big deal?"

"Well, I…" He fidgeted a little, pushing up his glasses. Stan pretended not to notice and instead took a long sip from his soda. "I don't… I've never, ah, well. I have, uh, dated, you know, the—"

"The siren," Stanley provided, recalling some conversations they had about their brief romances on the ship. There hadn't been many, but he knew about his brother's very, very limited dating experience. It was kind of depressing, but Stanford didn't seem too bothered by it until now.

"Yes. The thing is, the siren and other few were the ones to suggest we start a relationship. Here, it's…" For someone with such a big mouth, Stanford couldn't seem to find the words. Stan stepped in,

"You want to be the one to ask this time, but you're worried she'll say no." Stanford looked up at him and nodded. He continued, "Even though you've known each other since college. And she likes you."

"You can't be sure—"

"She laughed when you said 'Sayonara, Capybara,' earlier. She likes you."

"That was a good joke!" Stan made a face and shook his head.

"Listen, if you're not up to ask her, why don't I do it for you?" he finally offered. Stanford looked affronted, and his twin held up hands up in a placating gesture. "Hear me out before ya chew my head off! It'd be easy: I dress up as you, check in on her when she's back, ask her for dinner. She'll say yes, I'll deny hugs or kisses, and you get to take her out without the weird sweating."

"I don't sweat weird," the scientist defended. Stan rolled his eyes, and Stanford brought a hand to his chin in thought. "But… yes, I suppose… she won't be able to—Well, if the lighting is dim and she couldn't tell…"

Stanley waited for his brother to finish mumbling to himself. A few moments later, Stanford looked up at him again and placed his fists on his hips, grinning.

"Yes! Excellent idea, Stanley," he chimed. Stan stood a little taller, but pretended not to care at all. He flapped a hand instead, taking another gulp of soda. "If I don't manage to ask her out to dinner, you have my permission to impersonate me and do it yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, don't go spouting it off to the kids," he grumbled. Stanford was already rushing out of the kitchen. "Hey, you owe me one!"

"Yes, yes," Stanford called over his shoulder, rushing past the doorframe. Stan snorted and took another sip of his soda. It wouldn't be that bad, he reasoned to himself. You would think his brother gathered himself together just enough to ask you out, Sixer scores a date, Stan gets some kind of favor. Win-win-win.

He was a little proud of himself for coming up with the idea, really. Stan took a sip of his Pitt, standing up straight to put the mop away. He paused then, and looked at the sudsy dishwasher.

"Ford! Come back here and do your chores!"

*

You're with two people, one silently pleading and one silently praising. Three people? This isn't right. This doesn't feel right. You hear someone who isn't them, see someone who isn't there, feel something that itches at your skull and pulls at your wrist and lurks in the shadows and you swear you can feel it they're here they're not supposed to be here you don't know why they're here but you want them to leave leave leave  _leave him al_ You jolted awake with a gasp.

Dread pooled at your gut, heavy and cold. Your mouth was dry and your head was somehow the opposite of an ache. You really, really wanted to puke. Even then, you… weren't really sure why. You knew your dream hadn't been enjoyable, whatever it was, but not what actually happened in it. There were a few tears building up in your eyes, and you tiredly reached up to wipe them away before they could fall.

Your room was dark, and when you blindly reached for your phone, the screen blinded you for a second. Without really looking, you adjusted the brightness and read it was half past five in the morning. Great. You sat up slowly to rub the sleep out of your eyes. What in the world had even woken you up?

Your stomach made an odd gurgling noise and you grimaced. Right, you had skipped dinner the night before after hanging out with the nymphs a little too late. It seemed like that whole quiet part of the forest had immediately come alive when you'd brought the mushrooms to them, but you didn't get the chance to study them like you'd hoped. You'd learned that Greek nymphs partied harder than Oregon nymphs, at least.

Your stomach gurgled again and you started to sit up, heaving a small sigh when you did. You were hungry. Yesterday's lunch had only been a few granola bars since you were out of the house since brunch. You'd have to find something to eat. What was a little early morning snack, right?

At least, that's what you told yourself before you were hanging out in front of the Gravity Falls grocery store half an hour later. You offered a friendly smile to the employee opening up at six, but they were either too disinterested to respond or too tired to notice. They let you in, and you made your purchases quick and quiet before leaving to grant the poor cashier some alone time.

The sun wasn't up quite yet, and the air was still cold. It was a refreshing kind of cold though, the kind that didn't stick to your skin or seep through to your bones. Instead, it was just pleasantly chilly. You sighed just for fun, but it obviously wasn't cold enough to make your breath form a cloud or anything cool like that.

Your trek up the hill to the manor wasn't as relaxing as the trek down, but the exercise got your blood pumping and a little of your tiredness faded away. By the time you'd made it back to the manor, the sun was barely rising and a familiar morning heat started to spread across the town. You ducked inside before you could start to sweat.

There was some noise coming from the kitchen, and you wondered who else would be up so early. Then you didn't have to wonder, because a quiet curse in a voice that sounded too much like Stanford’s came from the door right before you pushed it open with one hand. Your friend looked over his shoulder at you, then nodded.

"Good morning," he greeted you by name, tone soft.

"Good morning," you replied, just as soft. Everyone else was probably still asleep.

"What are you doing up so early?" Stanford asked. At the sight of your groceries, he started to step a little closer to you as if to help. You waved a hand in dismissal and easily placed them on the counter before he could.

"I could ask the same." You pulled out some eggs, butter, a few assorted vegetables, and a few other things more specific to what you were craving. "I got some food for you guys until you find the time to shop for what you actually wanted. I figured you could make omelettes or something."

"Will you be joining us?" Stanford asked, just as you pulled out some cocoa powder, sugar, and a few more ingredients. You took the milk out and walked over to place it into the refrigerator before coming back.

"I don't think so. I might have stayed up a bit late and just wanted to make something for myself real quick. I figured it wouldn't be very nice of me to make a grocery run and still leave everything empty, though." Your friend nodded as you talked. "Why are you up?"

"The coffee machine in the lab broke, and Fiddleford isn't awake to fix it. I'm barely getting this one to work." He gestured to the coffee grounds and expensive coffee machine in front of him, and you took the liberty of walking over to help him out. You'd seen one of these be used a lot in a hotel once, but it took some guessing on both of your parts to get it to start pouring a steady stream of dark coffee.

"Would you like a cup?" he asked after thanking you. You declined. You wanted to go to sleep soon anyway, and any sort of caffeine wouldn't help with that. Stanford patiently waited for his cup as you started to put some groceries away, leaving out the things you needed. "What are you making?"

"Brownies." Box mix was fine every now and then, but you felt much more comfortable knowing what exactly went into your sweets. You could actually control the sugar ratios and all, and baking from scratch was ultimately a better source of accomplishment anyway. Stanford leaned against the counter, watching silently as you preheated the oven.

The microwave looked a little old and out of place, which it probably was. You couldn't imagine a mansion coming with a microwave at all. You were grateful for wherever it came from though, because you had to melt your butter and chocolates together. You poured the melted mixture into a bowl and glanced up at Stanford.

"Do you mind grabbing the sugar for me?" you asked, nodding at it. He nodded and did as told, opening the package, and you told him how much to measure out into the bowl. You cracked some eggs into it and had Stanford grab the vanilla for you as well.

"I forgot how good vanilla extract smells," he admitted, sniffing the small bottle after pouring in two teaspoons worth. You sprinkled some salt into the mixture and opened up the bag of flour.

"Then you've probably forgotten how good it tastes." He raised a brow and you pretended not to notice as he poured some into the small cap. Quickly, he drank the small amount and immediately sputtered. You stopped mixing to slap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud, smiling into your hands as Stanford turned and quickly drank some of his warm coffee.

"You did that on purpose!" he accused, and you shushed him through your laughter. He huffed at you when he finally got the taste out of his mouth, but had a big grin on his face. Before he could try to get you to drink some, you ducked away from him and asked him to measure some flour for you. Begrudgingly, Stanford rinsed and wiped down the measuring cup you were using.

"One cup, please," you said sweetly, and just smiled when Stanford shot you a joking glare over his mug as he went for another sip. As he did that, you capped the vanilla extract again and started cleaning up. "Mix it for me, will you?"

You handed him the spatula as you passed to grab the baking tray you'd bought. You quickly greased it with another stick of butter and placed some parchment over the pan. When you looked back, Stanford looked unsure about what he was doing, and the batter had a lot of pockets of flour in it. You stifled your laughter and moved over to him.

"You'll want to fold it more than stir it around," you advised, though Stanford looked even more lost. With a quiet laugh, you moved your hand over his and started mixing the batter properly. "Here, like this. The more we mix, the chewier the brownies will be. Are you going to have some?"

"I, uh, would like to. Yes. But I don't have a chewiness preference." You saw Stanford glance at you a few times in your peripheral, but you were too tired to pay much attention to the way your heart fluttered. Instead, you just mixed the brownies, working the batter to your preference of chew, before letting go of his warm hand.

"Can you grab the pan?" you asked, running the spatula through the batter. Stanford maneuvered around you to grab it from the other side of the stove, bringing it back. He kept it on the counter with one hand while you poured the mixture in and smoothed it over with the spatula.

You opened the oven next, barely thinking as you held the spatula behind your back. Stanford took it out of your hand and you slid the pan inside before leaving it to bake. When you turned around, Stanford had already licked the utensil clean and grabbed the bowl to start scooping up the few lines of batter leftover.

"That has raw flour in it, you know." Stanford only gave a hum in response and you leaned against the counter beside him, easily falling into the same pose. The silence gave you ample opportunity to get lost in your own thoughts.

You couldn't deny this reminded you of college. When Fiddleford moved out of his dorm in your third year (something about his roommate being particularly irritating), you and Stanford would often visit his small apartment and sometimes you would get the opportunity to bake. They would both be there in the kitchen with you, not protesting when you asked for help, but making a mess of things on occasion just for the fun of it.

Fiddleford always fretted over doing the dishes for you, and scolded Stanford when he licked the remaining batter off whatever you stopped using. Just to have the brunette help out a bit more, you tended to order him around gathering things for you or holding a hand mixer up while you went to find something. Those memories seemed so far away.

"Stanford," you found yourself saying before realizing it, "where have you been?"

You looked over at him to see him placing the spatula and bowl back onto the counter. He looked at you for a few seconds, surprised, as if registering what you'd just asked. You clarified,

"We haven't seen each other in decades. I told you about some of my explorations before, but I don't think you've shared much with me." Before he could speak, you gently added, "Besides sailing with your brother."

Stanford stayed quiet for a while after that. You didn't really mind, having just asked out of curiosity after all, and just stared idly at the oven. Neither of you moved or turned to look at each other in the few minutes that you watched tick by on the oven timer. When he finally spoke, you would have jumped if it hadn't been for how quiet his voice was.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you." You looked over at him, but Stanford stared straight ahead. His brow was furrowed, and the frown on his face made him look older than he was. "I want to, but you wouldn't believe me."

"And if I did?" you asked, just as soft. You didn't quite expect him to heave a sigh, but the sight made you unnerved. Like you were toeing the line between curiosity and tragedy.

"Then I fear you would be in danger." The words were laced with remorse. Whether that was because he couldn't tell you or something else, you didn't know. You eyed your friend's profile for a moment more before looking away. You felt something somber start to seep from the man beside you and decided you didn't like it.

"We should make plans," you said, not bothering to be subtle about the subject change. Stanford perked up a little in your peripheral, and he looked at you in surprise again. "I mean, actual plans. Not the kind of plans that end up with you getting kidnapped in the woods."

"Plans?" Stanford asked after a moment, sounding like he was still trying to catch up. You looked at him, nodding.

"Like, I dunno, lunch or dinner or something. Alone, or with your family, friends. Whatever you think would be fun." You pretended not to notice how his shoulders sank a little in relief at the distraction, but you couldn't keep the small smile off your face. "Maybe we could throw a party. I know you've _always_ liked those."

Your smile turned into a grin when Stanford huffed out a laugh. You remembered a night back in Backupsmore, when you'd taken Stanford with you to a party you'd been invited to. He'd spent the whole time at your side. You didn't drink much of anything that night to spare him from waiting alone outside the bathroom for you. He looked like he was going to heave the whole time until you got back to the dorms.

"What kind of party?" he played along, gaining a similar smile to your own. You raised your hands to gesture dramatically.

"A total rager. Kegs, fog machines, the whole shabam." You started listing things off on your fingers. "I'm talkin' red solo cups, diving onto foldable tables from the second floor, spiked punch—"

"Spiked punch," he echoed, chuckling a little. You winked at him, your tiredness seeming to have disappeared.

"The spiked-iest." That made him laugh a little louder, and Stanford leaned further against the counter with his body turning a bit more towards you.

"With music," he added, "and a DJ. They'll play music loud enough to rock through the town, and then change it to a slow one just before it gets good." He deepened his voice to a slow drawl that sent tingles up your spine. "'This one's for the lovebirds.' And then everyone will take a bathroom break."

You laughed when you realized he was recalling the same party you were. Stanford seemed pleased with himself, and you kept going,

"There has to be someone named Tomas, without an H, who keeps introducing himself as 'Tomas, without an H.'"

"And someone with long hair, whipping it around until they fall over, then trying again."

"And a dance major who thinks they're really cool, but really there's only a circle around them because no one wants to get hit by a stray arm."

"And then there's the one couple who makes out on the dance floor the whole night. Everyone else just pretends not to notice after the first hour or so."

"Oh my god, I hated those two," you guffawed into your hands, muffling yourself as Stanford grinned at you. Both of you had changed positions throughout your back-and-forth and were now facing each other, but you still leaned on the counter. Stanford had one forearm on it, and his ankles were crossed in a lazy way that you rarely ever got the chance to see. It made your chest warm up a little. “I don’t even think they went to our college.”

“No? Really? They just—They heard about a party,” you laughed at his face as he said this, “and decided to crash it, but only by making out. Even during the _one_ slow dance.”

The two of you chattered about the party for a while, and you took great pleasure in talking about things you’d seen that Stanford had been too awkward to notice. He made funny expressions every once in a while, but never quite understood why you’d suddenly look at his face and laugh.

“So no party in the manor?” you asked, tilting your head. You had an elbow propped up on the counter and gestured with that hand. “You wouldn’t be up to that?”

“Oh, no, please, go ahead. I’ll just follow you around the whole time,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. You grinned at him, leaning down a bit to prop your chin on your closed fist.

“You’ll have to dance at this one, then. You can’t just talk about throwing a party with me and not dance.” Stanford gulped down his drink and narrowed his eyes at you, shaking his head. “Oh, it’ll be fun! Just one song, Stanford, you’d have a blast!”

“I’d blast right out of the room.” His deadpan delivery made you snicker and you stood up straight. You patted your pockets for a moment and took out your phone. Stanford raised a brow as you quickly tapped through it. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the play button onscreen, and a soft, mellow tune started to play. You smiled at your friend and blindly set the phone on the counter after making sure it wasn’t too loud. Stanford seemed to catch on and started to shake his head again, but you just held your hands out.

“Just one song,” you offered, staring up at him.

“No, I-I don’t dance,” he stated, refusing to acknowledge your hands.

“Just _one_ song,” you insisted. Stanford started to say something more, but you continued, “Stanford, it’ll be fun.” When another second passed and your friend looked like he was going to refuse again, you tacked on a soft, “Please?”

His mouth shut, and he stared at your hopeful expression. You carefully inched your hands a little closer to him, and let yourself smile a bit more. A few moments passed with the only sound between you coming from your phone. Just as you thought it really hadn’t worked, Stanford carefully set his mug down and stood up, pursing his lips.

He moved his hands up, paused, sighed, and then reluctantly placed them into yours. You beamed and led him away from the counter, into the space between that and the oven. When you were sure you had adequate space to move, you took Stanford’s right hand and guided it to your waist. To keep from scaring him off, you pointedly avoided looking at his flushed face. You set your left hand on his shoulder, and intertwined your fingers with his left hand before raising them.

“Just step for now,” you instructed carefully, letting Stanford look down at your feet. You didn’t want to spring an entire waltz on the man, so you were more than okay with just stepping left to right. When he got that down, you gently maneuvered him to start turning. “We’re going to turn clockwise now, slow and steady.”

Stanford looked up at your after a few more steps, and looked a little shocked by how close you were. Even though you took care to keep your chests a few inches apart, you were definitely in his personal space. You just smiled at him and vaguely noticed the song on your phone change to an equally gentle melody.

“How am I doing?” he asked awkwardly, and you debated whether or not you should mention how stiff he was. You decided against it in favor of letting him relax on his own.

“You’re doing really good,” you assured him, and Stanford ducked his head down a little as if hoping you wouldn’t notice the flush on his face. “Hey, I mean it. You’re good at this. Just keep looking at me.”

He did, and you almost regretted it. Stanford’s brown eyes were unsure of himself, but they locked onto yours so easily. He seemed to search for something in your gaze for a few moments, and you didn’t know what to do other than stare right back at him. When he didn’t seem to find anything there, he visibly relaxed a little. You let him break eye contact, but couldn’t help but keep staring.

"Right about now is when the music would pick up," you said. When Stanford looked at you, you grinned. "'Signed, sealed, delivered.'"

"Oh my god." He rolled his eyes, recognizing the song. Fiddleford had it on record, and played it far too often. You started to sing for real.

"Oh baby, here I am—"

"Please don't."

"Signed, sealed, delivered! I'm yours," you bobbed your head a little, but you two were still slow dancing. Stanford huffed out a laugh at you.

"Ooh, wee, baby," he continued, voice stale, and you laughed out loud in surprise. You two continued to sing, barely able to keep your voices and laughs down. When the song on your phone changed to a more modern tune, you started to sing along with that one, too. Stanford didn't know it as well as the last one, but mumbled along to the chorus when it came on.

You danced like that for another few songs before settling down. A more manageable song played, so you wouldn't have to struggle to keep your slow steps. Stanford seemed pretty good at keeping pace though, which was interesting.

“Have you really never danced with anyone before?” you asked between humming some parts. Stanford shook his head.

“I was much too busy,” he stated matter-of-factly. “What’s the point of studying how to dance when you can study String Theory and Quantum Mechanics?”

“You know, I think you’ve said that before.” Back in college, when you’d heard about a spring banquet one of the few Backupsmore sororities was throwing.

You hadn’t wanted to go anyway, but Stanford’s immediate flippancy at the mere, offhand mention of it had made you feel a little disappointed in the moment. But then you'd spent the night with just him and Fidds, and you figured that was much more fun than the alternative.

“It’s nice, though.” The words made you blink out of your thoughts. At your questioning gaze, Stanford turned a little pink in the face. “Dancing, I mean. With you.”

“Oh.” You felt your own face get a little flushed as well, but didn’t look away. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of how close the two of you had become. Your fronts were nearly touching now, and you could feel the heat from Stanford’s chest projecting onto yours. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

The song ended after another minute or so. You began to pull away, but Stanford's hand shifted a little at your waist and he said your name to get your attention. You paused and settled back into the dance position.

"Yeah?" you asked, stopping your swaying when your friend planted his feet on the ground. Your joined hands lowered a little, and Stanford looked kind of nervous.

"Uh, you-you said something about plans," he started, and your brain completely paused. Then you nodded along when he hesitated, encouraging him to continue. "Maybe sometime, we could—I, well, I mean, when we both have the time…"

Both? You held your breath. Stanford looked around the kitchen counters and floors, not quite glancing at you but not removing his gentle hold on your waist.

"Would you like to go out to dinner?" You opened your mouth to reply, but then, "With me and-and the kids. And—Er, me and the kids. Fiddleford can come, too, if he likes. Maybe Stanley will want to tag along." Your mouth shut.

"Um." Stanford looked a little alarmed, but you quickly continued, "I mean, yes! No, of course, I'd love that!"

"Really?" he asked, and your smile was genuine despite your initial disappointment.

"Really. I like hanging out with you guys." You thought that would be reassuring, but Stanford deflated a little.

"Yes. We all like your company." He finally looked at you. "Dinner, then. Not a party." You brightened a little.

"Unfortunately. We were really looking forward to one, too." You gently took your hand from his. Stanford froze for a second, his hand hovering in the air. You guided it to rest on your waist, then moved to rest your hand on his shoulder. "No spiked punch. No Tomas without an H."

"No Tomas without an H," Stanford said solemnly, relaxing a little and shifting his hands. His right rested on the small of your back, the other just barely overlapping it. "But there'll be food."

"I'd hope so. It's a dinner." You slid your hands up his shoulders to interlock them at the back of his neck. "Where you thinking of anywhere in particular?" you asked lightly, trying to act like you weren't swooning at the closer contact.

"Ah, well, I suppose Greasy's pancakes wouldn't make for the best supper." You internally disagreed, but nodded anyway as Stanford thought. "There's a restaurant near the mall I think you might like."

"I trust your judgement," you said honestly, starting to sway a little again. Stanford joined in, but didn't seem particularly focused on your dancing. "Anywhere we go will be fun."

"With the kids," he clarified. You felt a little disappointed again, but quickly perked up when you realized this would be a good way to bond with them.

"With the kids," you agreed eagerly. Stanford nodded briefly, and his expression became one that he wore when he became lost in thought. You let your gaze drift somewhere over his shoulder and absentmindedly kept to slow dancing. An old song you used to like started to play, and you forgot to hum along.

A short while later, you carefully made your way up the stairs. Your initial sleepiness started to creep up on you despite the brownie you ate. You had made yourself a plate of them when they had cooled and Stanford retreated back into the lab with coffees for himself and Fiddleford. (You knew he would drink it all. Fiddleford favored strong tea nowadays.)

You were excited at the prospect of spending part of an evening with your friend and his family, but you couldn't help but feel a little discouraged by the extra company. Still, you were pretty excited for the chance to go out and have fun with them all. What was the point of having a crush if you didn't want to spend time with their family? Summer was still starting anyway, and you really were looking forward to knowing the Pines family a little better. Catching up with Fidds would be really nice, too, if he joined in.

The brownies were nicely warm and you broke a small piece off one of the squares, putting one in your mouth. Stanford had helped with the cleanup and everything was put away nicely for the others to find when they wanted breakfast. You could afford to take a nap after—

"Mabel?" you asked, mouth half full of brownie. You had paused once turning to enter the main hallway, where a certain teenage girl seemed to be scrambling off the floor. "What are you doing? Didn't expect to see you up so early."

"Huh? Who, me? Ahaha!" Her laugh was drawn out painfully awkwardly, and you slowed in chewing your chocolatey treat. "What, did you think I was doing something? Why would I be doing something? I'm certainly not doing anything, at all, _ever_."

"Mm." You took another bite of brownie.

"Like-like I would be up to something? Like what, eavesdropping? Pfft," she waved a hand dismissively and leaned up against the wall in a faux-casual way. "What would I even eavesdrop on? Nothing! I don't even know _how_ to eavesdrop!"

Right. Mabel wasn't very good at covering up her sneakiness. You nodded slowly and then held out the plate.

"Cool. Want a brownie?" She hesitated before taking one and quickly rushing away.

*

When you woke up, you were sweating. Evidently, sleeping in on a summer day wasn't a very good idea when you were wrapped up in blankets. You kicked them off of you and blinked harshly in an attempt to get some life into your face.

Your phone was nearly dead on the bedside table, and you plugged it in after noting it was nearly eleven. You still felt like you could use some rest, but you wanted to get rid of the sweat that had gathered on you during your time tucked in. After a cool shower, you stripped your damp bedsheets and opened your bedroom windows all the way to allow for a nice breeze before heading out of your room.

"Doo-do doo, makin' a lunchtime sandwich," a gruff voice sang from the kitchen. You curiously opened the door and peeked in before entering. Stan looked up when you came in, pausing before offering a wave of white bread. "You want one, too?"

"Uh," you said intelligently. Stan pointed at his half-made sandwich. And you perked up a little. "Oh! Oh, uh, I'll make one for myself. Enjoy yours."

He made a noise of acknowledgement and smeared mayo on his bread with a butterknife before dropping the utensil into the jar. While you grabbed yourself a glass and opened the fridge to look for some juice, you were pleasantly surprised to see it well-stocked.

"Went grocery shopping this morning, but Ford didn't tell me you already got a few things. We have extra eggs and milk," he said from where he sat at a rickety barstool. Evidently, the vegetables were mostly used. Stan must not have shopped for them too often.

You thanked him for the errand and decided you could handle a sandwich, grabbing what you liked. Stan nudged his ingredients away and ate his food silently as you made yours.

You were planning on heading to the dining room to eat, but as soon as you picked up your plate, Stan reached out and pulled out the stool next to him. He stared at his sandwich as he ate, ignoring your stare. Trying not to seem reluctant, you moved around him and sat down. You got a few bites in and just started to sip your juice when he spoke,

"So." You looked at him as you drank. Stan finished off his sandwich before continuing, "What are your intentions with my brother?"

You choked, spitting the last of your juice back into your cup to avoid spraying it everywhere. A noise of discontent left you and you quickly stood up to pour it all out into the sink. It was only convenient that you were able to hide your flushed face as you coughed.

"Sorry, w-what?" you asked after thoroughly hacking. You swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and blinked at Stan's mouth being hiked up a little before it fell again. "What are my inten—with Stanford?"

"No, the other one. Yeah, Stanford," he said sardonically, though somehow you knew he spoke like that to everyone. "Tried to get him up here for breakfast, but he said you two had brownies."

"Brownies. Yeah, uh, I couldn't sleep and ended up buying some stuff," you said, nodding along to yourself as you cleared your throat. "He helped. Uh, licked the spatulas clean and… and such."

"Hm. Mentioned he asked you to dinner." You relaxed a little at the memory. Stan reached for the bag of bread nearby and tugged off the bread clip to grab more slices.

"Yeah, with everyone. Us, the kids, you, Fiddleford. Hopefully we won't have any trouble finding a table for six somewhere," you tried to joke.

"So you and Ford are an 'us' now," he said, looking at you as he placed a minuscule amount of lettuce on his sandwich. Your face heated up, and you looked away.

"No, not like that. No. I'm completely single, and so is your brother," you said diligently, pouring your ruined drink down the drain and turning the faucet on to rinse out your cup.

"Ford isn't single," Stan said. You whipped around, managing to splash water all across the counter.

"What?" you asked, incredulous and a little guilty. Stan looked up at you then, a brow quirked and his lips pulled into a smug smile. The heat came right back to your face as you slammed the faucet handle down to stop the water. "Why, you! Don't do that!"

"Do what?" He took a bite of his sandwich and you frowned, pointedly turning away from him and looking through some drawers. "So you're not together, but you want to be."

"I'm not looking for a relationship right now." When you found a dish towel, you quickly started wiping down the counter.

"And the sky isn't blue," Stan added, and you could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. "Look, toots, all I need to know is whether you're trustworthy."

You've heard that before. Where have you heard that before? Stan paused, then narrowed his eyes at you as if he was thinking the same thing. You swore you could recall—It was almost like—No. Nevermind.

The moment passed, and the two of you breezed over it easily.

"I can't have some rando showin' up to town a few days after us and then pouncing on Ford," he continued. Your jaw fell open in shock.

"I am _not_ a _rando_! We were classmates!" you exclaimed. "Stanford helped me get where I am today, and I have nothing but respect for that man. If you think I-I'm 'pouncing on' him, you obviously have no idea how much I look up to him as a mentor and a friend, and—"

"What are your intentions?" Stan interrupted rudely. Your face flushed again, but this time you were red with irritation.

"My _intentions_ ," you start through clenched teeth, "include absolutely no harm to Stanford, or the kids, or even you! I'm not plotting some evil scheme behind everyone's back just to make out with your brother or something!"

"You want to make out with grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked from the kitchen doorway. A strangled shriek left your throat and you jumped a foot into the air before facing her. She had a big grin on her face, as opposed to Dipper's awkward "What do I do in this situation" expression.

"What?! Oh my god, no, I—" You barely got a chance to stumble over your words, as Stan cut in again.

"Plannin' on getting with my brother and you don't even want to kiss him. Yeesh," he said. Your gaze snapped back to him.

"Stop that!" you demanded, and the way his mouth curved up in amusement made you itchy.

"So you don't want to kiss grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked, and you turned towards her and her twin.

"No, I do! I mean, no, I-I don't!" You started looking between the teenager and her smug great uncle. "Mabel, sweetheart, this conversation is off the rails. Why don't I make you lunch?"

"Why don't you make _Ford_ lunch? Heyo!" she whooped suddenly, her mouth turning into a grin awfully similar to Stan's. Dipper ducked his head to hide his face in one hand, but looked at his sister when he raised a hand for a high-five. He just rubbed his hand over his eyes. Mabel high-fived herself.

"Wee-hee-hee! What's fer lunch?" You jumped again and looked around for a second before looking down. Fiddleford was peeking out from the cupboard underneath the sink.

"Fidds? What are you doing down there?" you asked, calming down a little as your frantic demeanor made way for a confused one. Your friend held a wrench into sight.

"We need the shreddin' blades from the garbage disposal," he chirped.

"For what?" you asked, kneeling down a little to talk to him easier.

"Never you mind that, hun." You smiled a little. It was nice to hear that nickname from him, considering how long its been. Your smile quickly dropped when he continued, "So what's all this about you smoochin' Stanford?"

"Okay, hold on a second!" you exclaimed, standing up straight as Fiddleford awkwardly crawled out of the cupboard with few metal pieces in his gloved hands. "My relationship with Stanford is completely professional! I just woke up and I came down here for some lunch, okay? Not an interrogation from you," you pointed at Stan, who was halfway through his second sandwich.

"This is getting way out of hand and I'd have been happy to talk about anything regarding my 'intentions' if you'd just asked nicely, Stan," you continued, putting your hands on your hips. Now you were just kind of exhausted looking at him. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, but can we please have a normal conversation without getting all passive aggressive? I don't need anyone getting hit in the face with a loaf of bread today."

"What's for lunch?" Stanford asked cheerily, pushing the kitchen door open. You shouted in alarm and snatched the loaf of bread off the counter, throwing it at him quickly. The man jumped in alarm, but didn't have time to move before the bread hit him square in the face, surprising him enough that he stumbled back a few steps.

The bag fell, slapping against the kitchen tile. A few slices sadly drooped from the open package. Stanford blinked owlishly from behind his skewed glasses.

*

 **WARNING:** Further scenes contain open carrying of firearms, or laser guns. Please see footnotes for a summary if this bothers you.[1]

*

"You made a salad on bread," Mabel pointed out.

"No, it's a veggie sandwich, and it's good for you," Dipper insisted, gesturing to his plate. Mabel furrowed her brow.

"It's… a salad. On bread."

"Toasted bread. It's basically croutons, see?"

Dipper took a bite of his sandwich and chewed a little before pausing. His sister watched expectantly.

"I made a salad on bread," he mourned, and Mabel patted his back solemnly before slapping some salami on his salad sandwich.

"Welp, you were vegetarian for twenty seconds," Stan grumbled. Mabel gave her brother a thumbs up after shoving another piece of salami into her mouth while the rest of you pretended not to notice. Dipper added another slice of salami before digging in.

You smeared mayo on Fiddleford's sandwich to the point where it squished out the sides when you pressed everything together, just how he liked it. Your friend made an enthusiastic "Hoo-wee!" when you gave it to him.

"Sorry again," you said, leaning on the counter and looking at Stanford next to you. He was carefully placing other processed meat on his own sandwich and paused to meet your eye. "Uh, for throwing a bag of bread at your head. That was weird. A little funny since you didn't get hurt, but _really_ weird."

"I live for weird," he replied easily, offering you a smile. "It was more concerning than anything, really. I hope you wouldn't resort to bread as a weapon in the event of an actual attack, however."

"I have a laser gun," you assured him. A quick laugh left you when his smile turned to a more surprised and mildly alarmed expression.

"Where in the world did you get a laser gun?" Stanford asked.

"I dunno," you said honestly.

"You have a laser gun," he clarified slowly, "and you _don't know_ how you got it?" His brows started to pinch together.

"I usually call it a concentrated light blaster," you explained helpfully.

"Why?" he asked, befuddled. "Where in the world did you find it?"

"It sounds cooler. Stanford, I don't really think I should bother to think about it, to be honest. I have it, and it's helped me before, and I only need the one. Who cares where it came from?" Stanford didn't look too pleased. You rolled your eyes, but you were happy that he seemed concerned about you.

Really, of course you'd wondered about the weapon's origin before. You've had it for a long time, after all, and it was easy enough to use once you'd learned you had it. It's just that, when you thought about where you got it from, you... well, you just couldn't remember.

"You have a laser gun?" Mabel asked, and you looked over at her quickly. Dipper looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth was full. Instead, he looked at you with wide eyes and exaggerated some interested facial cues.

"You kids don't get to see. Thing's dangerous. I only have it on me when I plan on going out to really dangerous places," you explained, looking at Stan to reassure him that you weren't carrying such a weapon all the time. You were a little surprised when he didn't seem concerned at all. Dipper managed to swallow his large bite of food.

"I'm pretty sure our grunkles are lethally armed, like, all the time, so it's fine," the boy explained. Your head whipped to Stanford, who had the decency to look a little sheepish. He wiped off a hand and pulled back one side of his trenchcoat to show you his own sci-fi looking weapon tucked away into a holster at his waist.

"Stanford Pines, is that thing even on safety?" you scolded. He looked a little taken aback and nodded after a moment.

"Of course it is! What do you take me for, an idiot?" You narrowed your eyes at him and glancer around the room to make sure no one wasn't okay with the casual display. When you looked back, Stanford was just checking his weapon to make sure the safety was on. Fortunately, it was.

"I'd like to see yer laser thingamajig!" Fiddleford piped up. You tore your gaze away from your other friend to look at him, noting that his sandwich was already eaten.

"Sure thing, Fidds. It's up in my room right now." You and Fiddleford cleaned up some of the mess, and you reminded the Pines to put the ingredients away when they were finished eating before heading out of the kitchen.

Fiddleford was walking in that new, hunched way he always did, and you helped him fix his posture a few times along the way. You wouldn't want him to have a permanent hunch, even after how much of a stickler he was about standing up straight before. As you looked at him, you felt a little concerned. You wondered what happened to your friend to change him so much.

You wanted to ask, but couldn't shake the feeling that you wouldn't like the answer very much. Your gut also said that Fidds wouldn't like sharing with you, or wouldn't want to delve into such a topic anytime soon. Instead, you asked,

"You're welcome to looking at any supplies I've brought with me, but why my laser gun?" You showed him to your room and left the door open as you moved to where you'd shoved the thing into your backpack. "It's probably not as special as Stanford's. Or did you want to compare the two?"

"I just… have an odd inklin' to take a looksie," he said from behind you, and you peeked over your shoulder to see him sat in your desk chair. Fiddleford looked through an open journal you'd been working on, left to an unfinished page about tree nymphs. "Sorry if I'm intrudin'. It feels important, ya hear?"

You found the weapon under a change of clothes you usually kept with you and carefully brought it out. As you stood up, looking at it, you started to get that feeling again. Like something was missing. Like something was… lost. Fiddleford clicked a pen you had on your desk and you snapped out of your reverie, quickly tightening your grip on your weapon when you noticed you'd nearly just let it go.

"Uh, here it is. Safety's on all the time, otherwise I keep it on stun," you explained, walking over. Your friend accepted the laser gun and gingerly placed it onto the desk, pointed away from you, and you took a seat on your bed next to him. "I haven't used it a lot, but it's helped me out of a few really tough situations. Thanks, Fidds."

"Why're you thankin' me?" he asked without missing a beat. You looked at him, but he was eyeing the weapon.

"Huh?" Fiddleford adjusted his green glasses and eyed the settings on the laser gun.

"You said it helped ya outta pickles tougher than rubber tires on a win'er day." You were pretty sure you didn't use those words exactly. "'n' then ya thanked me fer it."

"Did I?" You rubbed the back of your head, where a pinprick of the empty feeling started. It grew a little as you watched Fiddleford turn the knob to each setting, the small little clicks making your gut twist. What was this? What was happening right now? "I don't… remember."

He looked at you then, eyes wide. The expression made you curl into yourself a little and your hand flew to your mouth as some kind of horrible guilt rushed through you. Something wet rolled down your hand, and you realized you were crying.

"W-What—Fidds, I—" He placed the weapon down and stood up in front of you, starting to go for a hug before hesitating. Without even thinking about it, you swept him up into your arms and hugged him close, and he hugged you back right away. "I-I'm sorry, I don't—I don't know why I'm crying. I don't—"

"Shh, darlin', it's alright." His tone was so soft. It only made you cry harder. You didn't even know why. Something was crumbling in your head, but you didn't know what it was. "You're alright."

"Why—Why am I—" He held you a little closer and swiftly cut you off by calling your name.

"You don't worry yer lil' head about that," he urged you. "Calm down. Just calm down, yer okay."

You wrapped your arms around him tighter, trying to get ahold of yourself. You blinked once, twice, and your blurry gaze found the laser gun on your desk. Quickly, you clenched your eyes shut before the empty feeling could get any worse.

*

"Ah, there you are," Stanford said happily as Fiddleford hobbled into the room. He was looking over a few blueprints aligned neatly on the desk in front of him. "I was just about to start working on—Fiddleford? Is something wrong?"

"Nosiree," the engineer answered quickly. He gave his friend a big, dopey smile, and Stanford visibly relaxed a little. "Jus' wanted ta ask if you'd mind me headin' into my office after I grab a few knickknacks 'n' doohickeys."

"Oh, of course," the man replied immediately. He was always quick to help his friend in whatever way he needed. Stanford stood up straight and placed his fists on his hips. "Do you need any help?"

"Naw, you get yer work done here." Stanford nodded and returned to his blueprints. Fiddleford shuffled away to grab a few tools before hobbling sideways to the elevator hallway. "Be back in a jiff!"

"Yes, yes, take your time. Come back when you're finished," Stanford replied, looking around to find his pen. Fiddleford didn't take the time to mention it was tucked behind his ear. The small man ducked out of sight, into the elevator, and left the lab.

No one had seen him when he made his way into his office-slash-bedroom, as he dubbed it. The TV was on in the living area, where Stan was grumbling about trash channels. The kids had gone up to their rooms to get ready for a day with friends. He'd left you in your own room after you assured him you just needed to go over a few things in your journals before taking a walk around town. He was alone.

Fiddleford locked his door and turned to hurriedly scamper to his cluttered desk. He quickly pushed a few papers aside and reached behind him to pull your laser gun from his back overalls pocket. Carefully, he set that and his tools on the desk. He undid two screws here, two screws there, and removed the panel on the back to reveal the intricate circuitry of the object. Carefully, he powered it off and started making his way through the wires and delicate hardware.

It was easier than he thought it would be, considering he didn't recall seeing the laser gun before. But that was the thing…

Fiddleford grabbed an eye magnifying glass, fumbling with it in his haste before attaching it to his glasses. Fiddleford leaned down, his worried face becoming crestfallen at the sight.

"PROPERTY OF F," the small panel read. He took a few moments to reread the glaring statement, over and over again, before slumping down in his seat. After a few moments, he slowly starting to put the pieces back together.

… Fiddleford didn't recall seeing the weapon, but dismantling it and putting it back together again was undeniably muscle memory.

* * *

1 **SUMMARY:** Stanford remarks about Reader's reflexes considering a threat. She admits that she owns a "concentrated light blaster," but doesn't recall where she got it from. Dipper states that both great uncles are usually armed at all times, and Stanford sheepishly reveals his own laser blaster at his hip. Reader asks if it's on safety, and Stanford discreetly checks to make sure it is. Fiddleford asks to see Reader's weapon and she leads him to her room. Absentmindedly, she says that the weapon has helped her in dangerous situations before and thanks Fiddleford. He asks why she thanked him, and suddenly, an unexplainable wave of guilt washes over her. Reader starts to panic and cry without knowing the reason. (This isn't described as intensely as a panic attack would be, but she is in great emotional distress.) Fiddleford quickly comforts her. Later, Fiddleford takes the weapon apart in his office and finds a small panel that says "PROPERTY OF F" inside. He is troubled by the fact that he doesn't remember ever seeing the weapon before, but the act of dismantling it and putting it back together seems to be muscle memory. **END SUMMARY.** [return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that happened. please feel free to tell me what you think!
> 
> again, i'm having a little trouble with writing and i'd love to hear some ideas from you! if you have any prompts for future adventures, comment down below! or contact me on [Tumblr](https://popcornjoints.tumblr.com/) or [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/apollo.gy/)! if you want to delve deeper into the lore of the story and help me develop new ideas, please consider being a beta reader! the only requirements are in the comment i've made below. no experience needed!
> 
> feel free to talk to me on social media or in the comments if you just want to bounce ideas around. i'm always super grateful for new inspiration and i want to give you guys something you enjoy! but overall, i really hope you liked this chapter and take the time to let me know. thanks for sticking around, and thanks for reading!


	9. Customer Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tag along with Stan and the kids to the Mystery Shack. You meet a few new people, including the little gnome you documented when you first arrived in town.
> 
> (That girl, Wendy, reminds you of someone. You're not sure who, so it must not be that important.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Long time no see! (Again!)
> 
> First off, I have a new beta! Dani will be helping out with future chapters, so hopefully we can get some more content out without it being a month late :,) I'm excited to get back into it!
> 
> I don't have as much free time to write, since I'm now 5 or 6 weeks into senior year and there's a lot of stuff going on. Still, don't think this story's abandoned!
> 
> For now, we hope you enjoy this chapter!

When you came back down at noon, face freshly washed and backpack on your shoulders, Stan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. You paused before continuing down, deciding to ignore him for now. The man seemed to have other intentions, and spoke gruffly, even though he didn't glance at you as he did.

"Kids 'n' I are heading to the Mystery Shack. You should come with, meet some people. Trees don't make good conversationalists." Stan looked up at you then, and that same scrutinizing look from when you first met came back. You were a little taken aback by the blatant invitation.

"Really?" you asked after a moment, when you realized you had been staring at him for too long. You averted your gaze to the floor, awkwardly adjusting your backpack straps. Maybe this was his way of apologizing for being so crass earlier? Probably not. "If you have room for me, then I'd be happy to come. Uh, where _is_ the Shack, exactly? Relative to town?"

"Relative to town, west," Dipper said as he bounded down the stairs. Mabel followed with an excited grin, and you perked up at the sight of the kids. Their energy was contagious.

"I haven't had the chance to explore that part of the forest," you said, your mind already buzzing with the thought of what you might find there. Stan looked away from you to watch the twins rush to the front door and pull on their shoes.

"While you're there, you can help with the Shack," he said gruffly. You realized he was probably trying to get you to do some work in return for the ride, and agreed quickly.

"It'll be super fun!" Mabel said, bouncing up and opening the front door. Dipper slipped out of the house eagerly, tugging a white and blue cap onto his head as he did. "Hurry up, grunkle Stan!"

An hour later found you at the Mystery Shack, scrutinizing the building. It looked a little rundown, but in an almost charming way. Mabel and Dipper were eager to lead you inside, and Stan said he would follow suit after finding a spot away from the tourists to park his car. He had changed into a suit before you left, which you thought looked nice on him. And a little familiar...

What really caught your eye, however, was the woods around the place. The four of you had driven down a long, winding dirt road through the trees with exuberant signs pointing the way. Stan had barely glanced at them and the kids were busy playing a game they called "What's That Stain?" so you figured they were pretty familiar with the area.

For now though, you took in the cool AC of the gift shop as you entered. It was empty, except for a young redhead lounging behind the cash register with her phone in hand. She looked up when the bell above the door chimed and the kids rushed away from you to go over to her.

"Wendy!" they greeted, peering over the counter, and she grinned at them, taking her feet off the counter to sit up.

"Hey, guys. Haven't seen you two dorks in a while," she mused. Mabel hopped up onto the counter easily, like she had done it hundreds of times before. She probably had.

"It's been two days," she laughed, and Dipper asked what Wendy was up to. You looked around the shop as they continued the conversation, allowing the kids to chat with the girl.

There were rows of snow globes and shirts across the shelves, as well as some Mystery Shack keychains and other forms of merchandise. You noticed a row of similar hats and picked one up, looking over at Dipper. He never wore a hat at the manor, but now he was sporting a white and blue cap with a pine tree on the front. Huh. Pines. That was kind of funny.

"This is our new friend-slash-roommate! She's staying with us for the summer!" Mabel said, looking over her shoulder at you. You put the hat down and turned to approach the cashier with a grin.

"It's nice to meet you," you said after introducing yourself. You held out a hand and the teen took it. She had a firm grip. "Wendy, is it?"

"It is," she confirmed, letting you go after a smooth handshake. She seemed pretty cool. "You new here? Your name sounds kinda familiar, but I've never seen you around before."

"Really? I can't imagine where you've heard of me, but I do travel a lot." After watching you two get acquainted, the kids chimed in again. You left them to their own devices, looking out the screen door to the woods. It looked so tranquil out there.

The screen door opened suddenly, and another new face came in. The woman held her back against the door to keep it open, a large box in hand. Stan came in after her with a box of his own. You stood up a little straighter.

"You need help with that?" you asked, already starting to take a step forward. The woman at the door shook her head, smiling at you from under her brown cap.

"I've got it, but thanks," she chirped. Stan didn't quite hold the same politeness and dumped his own box into your arms as he passed. You quickly grabbed it to avoid spilling its contents all over the place.

"Melody, show 'er to storage. I'm goin' to make sure Soos hasn't decimated my Mothball Man again." Despite his usual bite, you could hear a fondness to his words. Stan disappeared into the next room over. You adjusted the box in your grip as the woman, Melody, came over to you.

"Sorry about that. Mr. Pines is always grumpy when he shows up late. Here, I'll show you where to put that down." Melody led you through a door that had the words "EMPLOYEES ONLY" carved over it.

"I'm Melody. It's a pleasure," she said after you introduced yourself, and it felt like she meant it. "What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"I travel," you explained again. Melody set her box down on a steady stack of other boxes labeled "MERCHANDISE" and you followed suit. "I'm a researcher, just came to Oregon sometime last week. Are you a local?"

"I actually live in Portland, but I'll probably move here sometime soon. I spend more time visiting Gravity Falls than I do at home nowadays." She tilted her cap upwards a little and smiled at you. "Stan told me he'd brought along some extra help, but you don't have to stick around if you don't want to."

You glanced down at yourself in your hiking vest and outside wear. You certainly hadn't dressed to be working in a gift shop, but you offered a small shrug and a tilted smile nonetheless.

"I said I'd lend a hand, if that's alright. I'm happy to help." Melody looked a little relieved at that and opened the box she was holding to reveal a small stack of the same shirt she wore. She grabbed one off the top, and you noticed the "One Size" label.

"Welcome to the team," she said. You beamed and took the shirt, looking down at the large question mark donning the front. It was wasn't the most pleasant shade of green, but you figured you'd look decent in it anyway.

You hadn't expected to spend the next two hours in the shop, but it was more fun than you thought. Melody had quickly showed you what merchandise usually needed restocking and where to find everything in the storage room's organized chaos. Wendy's shift had ended just after your short training and Melody took over the register, and the three teens had gone out somewhere after letting Stan know they had a ride home.

Stan and Soos had emerged from the other room with a gaggle of tourists that immediately scattered to see some of the merchandise. You caught a few of them ogling a taxidermied bird with rabbit feet and porcupine quills glued onto it. You tried not to stare at it for too long.

There was enough time to meet Soos, Melody's boyfriend, before he and Stan went out to greet the next bus of customers. He gave you a candy bar he kept in his suit, calling it "Mystery fuel, dude! For cool dudes only!" Needless to say, he was a sweetheart, even if the candy was a little melted.

Everything the Shack was selling turned out to be greatly overpriced and of absolutely no use to anyone in any situation. At one point, you thought you saw a group of tourists throwing cash into a worn sack that Soos shook at them.

"You guys get a lot of customers," you observed between groups. Melody snorted a little as she reorganized the money in the register. The rush had been so intense, she had had to stuff some bills into it at random just to keep up.

"For a tourist trap, you mean?" You sputtered a little, nearly dropping a stack of bumper stickers. She laughed at you without any rudeness. "No, no, it's okay. This place's prices are probably, like, illegal, but tourists rarely come in to complain. Mr. Pines is pretty good at avoiding lawsuits."

She pointed at the doorway, and you turned to look. At first, there wasn't anything you could see that was out of the ordinary. When you stepped closer, however, you realized there was a whole terms and conditions script written over the wood in the tiniest font you'd ever seen. You huffed out a small laugh yourself, starting to place the bumper stickers on their display. The screen door opened and you looked up to greet whoever entered, but lit up instead.

"Stanford!" you greeted immediately, dropping a few stickers in the process. You jumped and crouched down to gather them all up quickly before he could help. He greeted you by name, and when you stood up straight he placed a hand on your arm as if to balance you.

"I would have thought you'd be out in the woods by now," he said, taking a respectful step away from you as you regained your footing. You nodded in thanks and started slowly putting the stickers away, but didn't really take your eyes off him.

"Yeah, well, I stayed behind to help out a little. I didn't expect how hectic things could get here, and it's just made me want to help more," you said honestly.

"The rush should end after this next group or so," Melody chimed in. Stanford looked at her with mild surprise, as if he hadn't even noticed she was there. She smiled at him. "Hello, Mr. Pines."

"Ah, yes, hello there." He became much more awkward after realizing she had been watching you two. He turned back to you, and you absentmindedly shuffled the stickers in your hands. "I'll be in my lab until you get back, alright?"

"I'll let you know when I'm on my way out," you assured him, and Stanford offered you a smile that made you tilt your head and lean onto the counter. "See you then."

"See you then," he agreed, tilting his head a little to mirror you. Stanford looked up to give a parting nod to Melody, who waved. When she wasn't looking, he quickly pressed an odd series of buttons on the vending machine.

You raised a brow as it swung gently off the wall. Stanford looked over his shoulder to flash a proud little grin at you before ducking behind the machine and quietly pulling it shut. You didn't realize you were grinning back until Melody gave a light chuckle from behind the counter.

"Man, I totally remember those days." Your smile turned slightly confused. She looked at you with an interested little smile on her face. "How long have you two been dating?"

For the second time in thirty seconds, stickers slid out of your hands and onto the floor. You quickly ducked down again to pick them all up, shooting glances to the vending machine as if Stanford would hear.

"W-What? No, we aren't—Aha, he doesn't date. Uh, me. He isn't dating me. We aren't a thing." This was so much more embarrassing than being teased by Mabel. Melody seemed genuinely curious about the two of you, and heat bloomed on your face.

"Oh," she said, blinking in surprise at your fumbling. You huffed out a breath to relax and reorganized the stickers again. "Sorry, I just thought…"

"No, no, you're fine. Uh, we're just really close." You awkwardly finished placing the merchandise where it belonged, sparing the bumper stickers a glance of recognition, and wiped the palms of your hands on your pants. Melody pursed her lips and nodded a little. A few beats of silence passed as you stared at each other. The look on her face told you she was holding back. "Um… Did you… want to say something?"

"So is it, like, a 'been there, done that' kind of thing, or 'go there, _do_ that' kind of thing?" she asked immediately, barely waiting for you to finish your sentence. You made a weird squawking noise and jumped at the words. Melody laughed, a hand coming up to her mouth. "I'm sorry! It's just—I can tell there's something there. You really like him."

You placed your hands on either side of your face, glancing at the vending machine again. You really did, didn't you? After a glance at Melody, who seemed so friendly and the only grown woman you'd spent a lot of time with since coming here, you cracked.

"Okay, yes! I do, but—Oh my god, I don't know," you moaned, covering your face with your hands. Melody chuckled again, and when you looked between your fingers you saw her leaning on the counter to smile at you.

"Hey, we've all been there. I think it's really sweet that you're both starting off your summer swooning over each other." You dropped your hands and let yourself laugh, comforted by how nice Melody was.

"Is it really that obvious?" you mused, propping an elbow onto the table and leaning your chin in your hand. Melody grinned, and you huffed out a small laugh as the telltale chattering of the tourists drew near. You stood up straight just as a kid ran through, knocking over a trash can near the doorway and continuing on without noticing.

"Aw, man. Hey, do you think you can take the register? I better clean that up," Melody said. You glanced at the kid, who seemed far too eager for ice cream, and looked outside again.

"Why don't I take care of it? It looks like it's getting pretty hot out, and I don't want you to have to walk out in that heat after being cool all day," you offered, and Melody's troubled expression relaxed into something grateful. "I can take the register afterwards and you can sit down somewhere."

"If you don't mind. Thank you, I really appreciate it," she said as the rest of tourists poured into the room. After learning where the garbage bin was, you quickly left to find a broom and replacement trash bags.

Soon, you were shuffling out the employee exit with a few full trash bags. One of the gift shop bins had been labeled "RECEIPTS HERE!" and there was definitely a good number of the crumpled slips inside. The trash can you were looking for turned out to be in the back, and you looked around for a second before spotting it. As you approached, though, you heard an unnerving noise coming from inside it.

It kind of sounded like… growling? You slowed in your steps, listening in a little closer. There were two sources of the grumbling, and you were sure to keep quiet in your approach. It could be anything from raccoons, to… well, the only thing that came to mind were raccoons. Once you were close enough, you slowly started to reach out a hand to tip the bin away from you.

"Ah!" you shouted in surprise as a grey animal clawed its way out of the bin, looking at you with beady little eyes and quickly hopping down to rush away. You sighed a little. So they were raccoons, after all. A little less worried, but still wary, you peeked into the trash can.

You blinked. That was not a raccoon.

"Shmebulock?" you asked, a little amused. The gnome paused in his gnawing of an apple core and looked up at you from his fetal position. He chewed at the food a little more before taking it from his mouth.

"Shmebulock," he answered intelligently. You chuckled and looked away to pat yourself down briefly. You quickly found the candy bar Soos had given you in your back pocket, a little more melted than before, but not enough to be considered goopy.

"Hey, little guy," you greeted, waving the candy bar over the bin. "I need to use this trash can. Mind getting out?"

The gnome perked up quickly and dropped the apple core to try clawing his way up. You watched him struggle for a few seconds before laughing and placing your bags of garbage down to reach in with one hand. You tried not to jump as Shmebulock latched onto your arm, but quickly relaxed when he ended up just nuzzling you as you pulled him out.

"Here you go, buddy." You set him on the ground and he all but snatched the candy out of your hands to tear the wrapper open. You stood up straight again and checked to make sure the bin was empty before tossing your trash into it.

"Shmebulock," he drawled through a mouthful of chocolate. You grinned at him and he quickly finished the snack before scampering off on all fours. It was funny to watch, and your gaze followed him until he disappeared into a bush at the forest line.

As you turned to head back inside, you didn't notice someone else's gaze was following you as well.

*

"Here you are! Have a nice day," you bid to the customer, nodding at them with a pleasant customer service smile as they bounded away. The last few stragglers of the recent group were still looking around the shop, oohing and aahing at that weird Rabbit-porcupine-chicken… thing.

Melody was right in saying the rush would come and go. There had been so many customers, it was a wonder how well she handled them all. Even then, you took up a spot behind the counter and accepted the money she had been forced to shove at you in order to grab the change she needed quickly. You helped put cash into and take cash out of the thing, which made the rush go by a little smoother.

You had taken over when the worst of it had died down and Melody had to restock. You could tell she needed a break, so you gladly accepted the position and managed to revive your college retail days enough to be wholly efficient at it after watching Melody mess with the register over and over again. By now, you felt the price tags of most merchandise were drilled into your mind.

You were making quick work of reorganizing the desk, making sure the things that had been knocked over or messed with were returned to their designated spots. Someone approached the counter then, and you looked up at them with a smile.

"Hello there," you chirped, your voice as fake as ever. The customer had a well-kept beard and bright red cap. The hat didn't really match his Hawaiian shirt, which was buttoned all the way and had its collar up. "How can I help you?"

"Hi there! You new around here? I don't think I've seen you before," he greeted, propping a forearm against the desk and placing his opposite fist on his hip. You leaned back a little in surprise, but introduced yourself.

"Er, can I help you with anything?" you asked. The stranger seemed to remember where he was and glanced around before drawing a pen out from a little jar beside the register. The thing cost an obnoxious four dollars and fifty cents, but he didn't seem to mind at all and slid the money over to you when you relayed the price. The five-dollar bill was awfully wrinkled, and you took care to smooth it out as best you could.

"How long have you been in Gravity Falls?" he questioned innocently enough. You explained you'd only been there for a little while as you opened the register.

"It's been nice. I take it you're a local?" The man made a teetering motion with his hand and you held out a few coins and a receipt. "Fifty cents is your change."

"Thanks, toots. Hey, how 'bout—" He jolted a little when you cut him off.

"Let's not do that," you said in a pleasant customer service voice. "Don't call me toots."

"Well, alright, uh… what should I call you then?" he asked, looking a little thrown off. Good.

"My name would be preferable." You introduced yourself, and the stranger at least had the decency to look a little sheepish as he repeated it. "And yours?"

"The name's J—Uh. Jack. Pleasure to meet you." He grinned again. You noticed the slip-up, but didn't think much of it.

"Nice to meet you, Jack," you said curtly. He stayed there for a second and rubbed the back of his neck before standing up straight.

"Okay, yeesh, rough start. I'm sorry," he held both his hands up, palms towards you, "let's rewind. Give me a second." With that, he turned around and adjusted his shirt before turning back towards you.

"Hi there!" he said, brimming with so much enthusiasm that the corners of your mouth twitched up. "I'm Jack. Nice to meetcha."

When he held out a hand, you raised a brow at him. He started to look a little nervous a few seconds later, and you let him soak in it a little before accepting the handshake and introducing yourself again.

"Nice to meet you, Jack," you replied, taking your hand back and leaning on the counter. "You're a local, then. What are you doing in this place? Seems like tourists are usually the ones to stop by."

"I like the woods." He seemed grateful for the change in tone and you decided you would humor him a little. He didn't seem like he had malicious intent, even if you felt some sort of… weird vibe from him. "It's quiet in this part of town."

You could hear a bus of tourists pull up outside, and you glanced at the screen door when the sound of chatter and cameras came through it. You looked back at Jack in skepticism. He chuckled awkwardly.

"Between tourists. It's nice." Jack leaned against the counter again, his Hawaiian shirt creasing a little. He wasn't doing it for show this time; it was a much more natural kind of slouch, and you were less alarmed by his sudden appearance. "Wildlife gets a little crazy sometimes, but a guy can deal."

"You sound like the type to prefer the company of animals rather than people," you mentioned offhandedly, hearing your faux friendly customer-service voice start to make way for your normal one instead.

"Ah, I guess so. Weird?" Jack asked. You shook your head honestly.

"I used to volunteer at an animal shelter as a kid," you explained. "I spend a lot of time outside, too."

"Favorite forest animal," Jack stated, pointing at you with a grin. You couldn't help but answer, and he said back, "Mine are squirrels."

"Really? Favorite type of tree," you shot back, smiling when he quickly replied. He really liked pine trees, and you nodded in approval.

The two of you kept going, shooting questions back and forth until one of you just had to elaborate. A full conversation started from there, and you relaxed a little at how friendly he was.

You knew better than to trust random guys who called ladies "toots" upon first meeting, but Jack apologized another few times when you brought it up again. He seemed friendly when he wasn't trying hard to be cool, or whatever that was supposed to be.

"And then I looked at him and I said—'Tony. Tony.'" He paused, and you waited eagerly. Jack snapped his fingers. "'Relax.'" You laughed at the end of the story, throwing your head back a little. Jack was grinning when you looked at him, and his goofy, smug expression threw you into a smaller round of laughter.

"Seems like fun in here," Melody mused, and you turned to look at her with a smile as she exited the employee's lounge. Really, it was the storage room. "What's up?"

"Melody," you greeted happily, pointing a thumb at the man leaning on the counter. "Have you met Jack? He was just telling me the funniest thing about a friend and some seeded grapes!"

"Pleasure," Jack greeted, flicking his red cap up a little. Melody looked at him curiously.

"You know, I can't say that I have," she admitted, and introduced herself politely. Jeff nodded and looked back at you.

"It's getting a little late, huh? I better be heading out." You were a tiny bit disappointed, but you still greatly preferred Melody's company and nodded. He continued, "It was nice getting to know you. See you tomorrow, maybe?"

"Well—" You paused. It would be kind of fun to have another new friend, wouldn't it? Even if Jack turned out to be as rude as he was during his first introduction, Melody would be nice to hang out with some more before you left. "Sure thing. See you, Jack."

He bid goodbye to you and Melody as he walked backwards to the screen door. You waved briefly before Jack spun on his heel, opened the door, and left. When you turned to Melody, she was looking at the screen door curiously.

"Weird guy," she remarked casually, like it was just a fact. You nodded in agreement. "Is he a tourist?"

"He said he's a local," you explained, standing up a little straighter. "I guess you two just never happened to see each other around."

"I guess so," Melody hummed, though she looked at the door for another few moments in thought. You glanced at the door yourself, finding nothing wrong with it. Just then, a customer came to the counter and you and Melody were quick to greet them.

*

You were back in the Shack the next day, and this time you had been the one to help Stan carry boxes. He had easily taken one of the larger boxes out of the trunk of his car only to pass it off to you and grab two smaller ones. You grunted at the weight, but quickly adjusted your grip and followed him into the gift shop.

The place was empty, and you could just barely hear the snapping of cameras in the other room. Melody was waiting at the register again while the redhead teen you had met yesterday was lazily sweeping the floor. Stan entered storage before you did, and you had to stick a foot out to stop the swinging of the door and shuffle through.

"You working?" he asked, setting his box down and watching as you followed suit. You dusted off your hands before answering,

"I guess so." You placed your hands on your hips and looked up at him. "I won't be a formal employee, though, so you won't have to—"

"Great! Keep it up, kid." With that, Stan nodded, satisfied you weren't looking for pay, and left the room quickly. You watched him go, seeing him flip his eyepatch down just before the storage door swung closed.

"I'm your age," you said to no one in particular, placing your hands on your hips. When you exited the storage room soon after, Stanford was just entering the shop. You lit up and he noticed you immediately. He strolled over, greeting you by name.

"You like the Mystery Shack, I take it," he chuckled, stopping in front of you. You leaned against the wall next to the storage room doors absentmindedly.

"Don't act like you don't think this place is neat," you teased. "Got more work to do here? Does Fiddleford mind that you ditched him back at the mansion?"

"I ditched him in town," Stanford corrected, as if that was better. He stepped over to lean against the wall as well, but kept on his shoulder as to face you. "We ate lunch together. At his insistence." You perked up a little.

"What, and didn't invite me?" You friend pursed his lips awkwardly and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. When's that dinner happening anyway? Us old people and your grandniece and nephew."

"Er, soon. I'll have to make a reservation to avoid waiting for seating, and, ah—" Stanford started to stumble over his words a little.

"You don't have your laundry done?" you asked knowingly, tilting your head. He brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"I… no," he confirmed. You would offer to do it for him, but you had your own laundry to do. "But soon."

"Make good on that promise, Stanford. I can help you, if you want." Your offer made him nod immediately, and you snickered.

"You guys gonna kiss, or what?" Mabel asked loudly, making her presence known. You startled a little, and Stanford just about jumped out of his skin. At the same time, the two of you looked to the counter, where Mabel had pulled herself up. Dipper was nowhere to be seen, but he must have come in as well.

When you looked back at Stanford, his face was flushed just enough that only you could notice it. You laughed softly, ignoring your own coming blush, and pushed off the wall to nudge his shoulder.

"Get going, dork, I have work to do." His gaze snapped back to you after his blinking owlishly at Mabel, and he shook himself out of his shock to stand.

"Yes, ah, same for me." He paused, and you kept in front of him. "Stanley is paying you for this, right?"

"Of course," you lied, nodding your head.

"And you're lying to me to make me feel better about my cheapskate brother?" he added.

"Of course," you said honestly, grinning. Stanford nodded and turned to leave. "I'll steal a bumper sticker as payment, no worries."

"Good. Well, I'd best be off. Fiddleford's probably paid the bill by now, I hope." You scoffed fondly and rolled your eyes. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, okay, go do your laundry. And fold them, too, don't just throw them on your bed and spend the next week trying to hide your wrinkles with your coat," you ordered.

"Yes, yes, will do," Stanford said, but he was already stepping away. He nodded to the others and bid them goodbye as well before leaving the gift shop. You stared after him for a few seconds, your mouth fondly upturned, before looking at Mabel on the counter to ask how long she'd been here. Instead, her wide grin cut you off.

"You were flirting with him!" she exclaimed quickly, like she couldn't get it out fast enough. "Oh my god! You two are so sweet!"

"What? No!" Crap, you totally were. In front of Mabel and Melody and… Wendy, was it? You suddenly realized she was looking at you curiously, like you had her thinking of something.

Hey, now that you were looking at her a little closer, she kind of… Hm. What were you going to think?

"Yeah, it was kinda gross," Wendy pitched in, though the amused smile on her face took any disgust out of her words. She looked away, back to her phone.

"Girls, don't you have anywhere to be?" Melody asked, trying to spare you from the teasing. Though, as she glanced over at you with a smile too innocent to be completely genuine, you got the feeling she just wanted to tease you herself.

The teens left after a few minutes of Mabel shooting questions at you and you shooting them right down. Dipper and Soos went out after their tour group soon after and Stan took over instead, looking pleased to have his 8-ball staff in hand before he went out to greet the next busload of customers.

"How long have you liked him?" Melody asked once you two were alone. You glanced at the door, as if Stanford could walk in any minute, before going back to restocking the shelves of merchandise.

"We met in college," you recalled, grabbing a shirt from the box you had and unfolding it to smooth out the wrinkles, "I can't put an exact date to it, but… uh, I don't know. It just happened."

"College?" Melody asked. You nodded and folded the shirt back up to place on the shelf. "Oh, that's cute."

"Where'd you and Soos meet?" You looked at her in time to see her grin, and she told you about their first meeting. "That's so sweet! I take it the first date went really well, huh?"

For a reason unbeknownst to you, Melody laughed. You smiled at her kind of cluelessly as she giggled.

"Sorry, it's—You could say that," she agreed, like it was an inside joke. Before you could ask for some elaboration, the screen door chimed and you looked over.

"Hi there," greeted the familiar customer. You grinned at him in welcome, unfolding another shirt and briefly shaking it out.

"Jack! Nice to see you again," you greeted back, noting his outfit. Jeans and another button-up, though this one was a nice plaid. He had the same red cap on, too. "Nice day out. I wouldn't expect an outdoorsy person like yourself to spend time in some gift shop."

"I'm willing to become an indoors roamer if that's where you are," Jack replied without missing a beat. He leaned against the wall this time and nodded at your coworker. "Melody, right? You like the outside, too?"

"Only when there's a breeze," your friend admitted. A customer waddled up to the counter and she greeted them warmly, taking her attention away from you and Jack. He looked at you, still smiling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Sometimes I forget not everybody likes hanging out with trees like we do," you remarked, happy to see Jack and Melody have a pleasant exchange.

"Everyone has different company." Jack waved a hand as he spoke. "But I don't want to talk about _everyone_. Blah. I want to talk about you. How are ya?"

From there, the two of you worked back up into another happy conversation. Jack was even funnier than yesterday, now that he wasn't so rude upon first meeting. You quickly stepped in to help Melody at the register whenever there was a group in the shop, but Jack would just look around until you were finished and able to talk again. Luckily, Stan never noticed the loitering.

"Hey, think you could point me to the restroom?" Jack asked, and he thanked Melody when she gave him directions. She watched him as he went and waited a second after he was out of sight before looking at you.

"Okay," she started, drawing your attention away from the keychains you were unwrapping, "what are you going to do when he asks you out?" You nearly dropped a keychain, but managed to catch it after some fumbling.

"What?" Melody looked amused by your surprise. She leaned over the counter, propping her forearms onto it as she did so. It reminded you of being called into the principal's office without knowing why. "Melody! Don't joke about stuff like that."

"I'm not joking!" she insisted, and you rolled your eyes in good nature. "He's so into you, but we both know it doesn't go both ways. What are you going to do when he confesses his love?"

"You stop that, young lady," you scolded, just to remind her how old you were. Jack looked like a young adult, even if he did have eyes that sparkled like they'd been around longer than you have. "He won't do that."

"But if he does?" she posed. You huffed and unwrapped the last of the keychains. "Come on. Just in case."

"If he does—which he won't," you gave your coworker a warning glance and she just smiled at you, "—I'll decline, of course. I'm not looking for anything right now."

"Besides a certain somebody." You ignored the tease and turned to look at her properly, leaning up against a shelf.

"I shouldn't even be humoring you. It won't happen," you said, crossing your arms. Melody looked at you in skepticism, and you repeated, "It won't happen."

*

It did happen.

You were standing outside the Mystery Shack, just at the edge of the woods. Jack stood in front of you, a bashful smile on his face as his hands clasped behind his back. Your mouth was open a little after his confession, and your arms hung limply at your side. Frankly, you were dumbstruck.

"So? What are ya thinkin'?" He seemed genuine, which was the most confusing part of all this. You thought you looked nice most days, sure, but at your age, you wouldn't think such a young person would try to take a chance with you. You had a lot of grant money left over, but Jack didn't seem to want to marry you for that kind of reason. He called your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You okay?"

Your mouth clicked shut and you blinked a few times, glancing away from Jack awkwardly. He seemed so hopeful, like he was actually into you. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"Ah, geez…" Jack perked up a little in anticipation, but his smile started to fall as you continued, "Jack, I'm really flattered, but… I'm not… looking for anything right now. Er, you're very nice and I love talking to you, but I don't think this would be good for either of us."

He looked upset. Oh, God, you felt kind of bad. You tried to keep from cringing and pursed your lips instead.

"I'm sorry," you said, although you didn't mean it. It wasn't your fault you didn't reciprocate someone's feelings. "It just won't work out."

"No, I know." Jack cleared his throat and tried to stand a little taller. "Hey, it's fine. Uh, I just… It's fine, I understand."

"Really?" you asked in trepidation. Jack laughed without much humor, but it was clear he was trying to lift the mood.

"Really. I, uh, really hope we can still be friends? At least? It's okay if you don't want me to stop by anymore, I—" You quickly cut in.

"No, no, Jack, I'd love to keep seeing you at the shop," you insisted. "I wasn't lying when I said I love our talks. Melody enjoys the company, too."

"Great! Great." You nodded, and Jack exhaled in relief. "Uh, cool. Listen, I'll catch up with you guys later, alright? Tomorrow? I gotta…"

"Yeah, no, okay," you agreed. "See you tomorrow, Jack."

"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, starting to step backwards as if trying to look at you a little longer. Then he turned, and you watched him walk off. You waited for him to walk into the woods, out of sight, before turning and heading back to the Shack.

Melody glanced at you when you came in, then did a double take. You shut the screen door behind you, still feeling a little guilty and a lot awkward.

"Woah. You good? You look like you suddenly lost, like, a whole night of sleep," she joked, though there was actual concern in her expression. You groaned and trudged over to the counter, then bent down to lay your forehead on the cool surface. Melody hesitated before calling your name, a little worried.

"Ugh, I'm okay. Just…" You turned your head to look at Melody sadly. "You were right."

Your words didn't register, and she started to ask a question before pausing. As the implications of what you said started to sink in, Melody's expression began to change. Her worried face shifted to look curious, then shocked, then elated.

"Oh my God," she said. You groaned again and turned your head to face the counter. "Oh my _God_!"

"Stop laughing!" you complained, but Melody snorted and her giggles only became louder. "He was distraught!"

"That's so horrible!" She certainly didn't sound like she thought so. "He really went for it? Oh my God!"

"I felt so bad, he was crushed," you whined.

"He really—Oh, poor dude!" Melody snorted.

The two of you were throwing complaints and quips back and forth, until eventually you noticed someone else peeking into the room. You shot up straight and Melody slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter when she noticed Stan, as well.

"... Get back to work," he said after a few moments of perplexed staring. Then he turned and left. You two were silent for a few moments before you snickered and Melody busted out laughing all over again.

Meanwhile, Jack trudged through the woods, a frown on his face. He stopped after some time, and turned around to where he had come. He sighed, then grimaced towards the Mystery Shack. Those Pines, ruining their plans.

Jack turned around, reaching up to undo the collar button of his shirt. With a huff, Jack continued walking. Tomorrow, he'd go through with it. They would succeed. The leaves of the canopies above rustled in the breeze, and the afternoon sun didn't dare reach the forest floor below.

*

"Stanford, I can handle it," you insisted. He shook his head, adjusting his grip on the several boxes in his hands. "Really, at least let me carry one of them."

"You've been on your feet all day. Meet us in the car after closing up," he ordered pleasantly, and you watched your friend stroll out the door before you could protest further. "See you there."

"Dork," you scoffed, picking up the cloth rag you were using to wipe down the counter. "He acts like I'm exhausted."

"He's trying to impress you," Melody hummed, sweeping the floor. You rolled your eyes, but the thought made you smile a little. "You do know he's into you, right?"

"You've said that for the two people you've seen me have engaged conversations with," you pointed out. Even then, you swooned a little. Stanford, having feelings for you. A girl could dream.

"Because it's true!" Melody paused in her sweeping, holding the broom up with one hand as she turned to look at you. "He just showed up when you did, then left, and came back now that you're going to finish up. Why else would he visit?"

"Because this is brother's charming little tourist trap and he wanted to check in," you answered simply. Melody laughed a little and started sweeping again, taking care not to fling dirt everywhere.

"Has Ford ever asked you out?" she asked, glancing up at you as you lifted a container of pens to wipe underneath it. "You ever tried to date in college, or anything like that?"

"Mm. We were a trio," you explained, allowing yourself to reminisce a little. "Me, Stanford, and Fidds. It was kind of hard to think about actually, really dating Stanford while we were all close friends."

"But?" Melody prompted when you went quiet for a few seconds. You paused in your wiping and considered for a moment before glancing around. Melody perked up a little, noticing your hesitation.

"But, uh. Yeah. There was… a double date. Or two," you admitted bashfully. Melody gasped in pleasant surprise, even putting a hand over her mouth for effect when you looked at her, and you laughed a little. Melody started to ask you to elaborate, but just then, Stan entered.

"C'mon, kid, I'm starving," he said, not sparing either of you a glance as he walked straight to the screen door. You nodded and grinned at Melody, who looked a little scandalized by the interruption. Then she looked at you again and grinned.

"Tomorrow?" she proposed. You quickly finished your last few swipes of the counter before leaving the rag on the corner of it.

"Tomorrow," you confirmed cheekily, and she chuckled. Stan impatiently rapped on the screen door from outside. You and Melody traded your last few "Goodnight!" wishes before you rushed off, plucking a bumper sticker out of its display on the way. You stuffed it into your backpack that you'd set by the door and stepped outside, where Stanford was holding the car door open for you.

From the edge of the woods, a small creature watched as you smiled at the man and climbed into the passenger seat. The author pointedly ignored his brother's eyebrow wiggle, and clambered into the backseat. Stan hopped in last, buckling himself in and starting the car.

"Shmebulock," the gnome garbled to himself. The three of you drove off, and he caught a glimpse of your mouth moving as you talked before the car rumbled out of sight. Shmebulock hopped off the log he was perched on and dropped to all fours before scampering away, deep into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's such a normal, everyday guy. Reader is _totally_ out of his league.
> 
> We hope you enjoyed that! It's a bit long and there's definitely not enough Ford, but what can you do??? Next chapter for sure guys. Or not! Who knows? We do!
> 
> Just a reminder that comments really keep a fic going! We appreciate everything you write to us, even if it's just a "hell yeah"! Words are hard sometimes, so we understand and absolutely love any kind of feedback we get. Thank you so much for your comments in past chapters, and thank you so much for sticking through to this one!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading up to this point! i'm really hoping you guys are enjoying this so far, so please do comment what you think and any predictions you might have about what's to come! i love comments a whole lot and they do wonders to boost my morale :D they're the whole reason this story came to exist!
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading! until next time!


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